On the amazingness of my boyfriend

For the most part, I don't think about our age difference, which is substantial but not obscene (okay, fine, it's 8 years, if you must know). Oh, I crack the odd old man joke here and there, but just as often I forget and refer to people as being "our age" or talk about "when we were kids." In reality, though, 8 years is almost a decade—his generation even has a different letter than mine.

Dating an older man has its perks, and not just because his knowledge of 1970's pop culture references puts mine to shame. Improbably, older in this case also turns out to mean wiser. He is the grounding influence in our back and forth. He knows how to handle me (and I do need handling) better than anyone I've met. He hardly requires any training—he dresses well, and holds his own at social gatherings, and makes a mean martini, and brings flowers home for no reason. He's SuperBoyfriend.

Tonight we dressed up and went to this schmancy dinner at a restaurant we've always wanted to try. It was a patrons event for the opera, and CM had to sing for his supper (and mine) by speaking for 10 minutes about his experience here over the past 8 seasons. We sometimes joke about his storytelling skills, because often he rushes through his stories or leaves out some crucial detail. But tonight he was on: smooth, unhurried, and FUNNY. He charmed the room with what looked like hardly any effort. He was honest and insightful about his time with the company, and showed the appropriate level of gratitude and humility. It was amazing to watch. I couldn't keep the grin off my face.

Mostly I forget he's 8 years older. But some days, he navigates a situation with such aplomb that I can't help but remember... I'm dating a learned, wise man of the world.

Then I remind him that when I was born he was in 3rd grade, and that when he graduated college I was just starting high school.

That usually gets us back on equal footing. Phew.