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My husband is 9 years younger than me. He’s an old soul, and I’m young at heart.

Couple posing for photoThe author (right) and her husband.

Courtesy of the author

  • My husband and I have been together for 10 years and he is nine years younger than me. 
  • We are the perfect match: he is an old soul and I’m young at heart. 
  • For us, age is just a number, and nothing we lose sleep on. 

This might sound weird, but I never think of my husband Lachlan’s and my age gap. I was briefly shocked when we met and exchanged dates of birth, but then that number — almost 10 years — somehow got pushed to the back of my mind while watching incredible sunsets at the foot of an infinity pool surrounded by the Nicaraguan jungle.

Our age gap isn’t a thing — most of the time. There was one time, however, when I was made painfully aware that my then-boyfriend and I weren’t even sharing the same decade. This was just before I met all of his family in Australia, only two months after we’d initially locked eyes in Central America.

For a second, I worried about our age gap

Rumors had it that many people in his hometown — we’re speaking of a community of 3,000 — had some kind of knowledge of my planned visit, albeit a very distorted one. The pinnacle of said rumor mill was reached when someone asked my now-mother-in-law in the local supermarket if she was sad about her son dating a 45-year-old German lady. I am Austrian, and I was 33 at the time.

Hearing this, I suddenly started getting concerned about our age difference. What if his parents weren’t OK with our relationship, me being 33 and him being just 24? Some sleepless nights and several long flights later, I did meet his family. They were lovely and welcoming, and my doubts and fears disappeared again.

People never guess our age right

Almost 10 years later, I actually do love it when we meet new people and let them guess our age because hardly anyone gets it right, which always makes me feel giddy. When we finally reveal our age, people gasp and mutter that they couldn’t believe it.

I do get the odd cougar comment sometimes, and don’t mind it, to be honest. I don’t think our gap quite qualifies for a “cradle snatcher” remark. Funnily enough, my grandmother on my dad’s side was 13 years older than my grandfather. I feel like this would have been considered pretty badass back then.

We are the perfect match

My husband sometimes claims that I’m not as adventurous as he is, which I vehemently dispute while leaning back in a comfy chair sipping coffee. I just enjoy having a home of our own now compared to years of living a digital nomad life. Whenever he feels the urge to camp in the wild somewhere along the beaches in Galicia, Spain, I happily kiss and wave goodbye to him.

To me, we’re the perfect match, him being somewhat of an old soul and me being young at heart. We managed to meet in the middle, which is our happy zone.

Who knows, this could all be connected with me being a late bloomer. I got my period when I was 16, the same year my boobs decided to show up and finally helped me out so I wouldn’t look like a 12-year-old boy anymore.

The short bob my mom gave me during my awkward teenage years made everything worse, but once I hit my 30s, the tables slowly began to turn in my favor, and now I’m enjoying the benefits of looking younger than what my passport states.

At the end of the day, age is just a number. I know this sounds so cliché, but my husband and I got together for many reasons. We shared many things in common, and a nine year age gap was not a huge hurdle that concerned us then, and it’s nothing we’re losing sleep over now. And that’s good because I do need my beauty sleep.

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