It was the patent that got Robert * discovered. He asked me to sort out a movie on the iPad, saying from the other room that the password was his birthday. I knew the month of birth, but I was not sure about the exact date, so I opened his wallet.
There I was stunned, with my mouth open. I opened the calculator on my phone to see if I had made the wrong calculations. But no: He was a fixed 45-year-old - not 35, as he told me, and that further highlighted the age gap between us.
I remember when we first met at a bar, I can say that Robert looked a little older (20-year-olds usually do not wear a watch that costs more than my rent), but I also did not notice any deep wrinkles that appeared si e tim eti. I was 23 years old and I accepted his invitation to go out for bucatini.
Robert impressed me with his knowledge of excellent wines and classical cinema. I surrendered to his kiss at the end of the night, even after he told me he was 12 years older than me. How lucky I thought I was to find this producer from LA, who looked real (lol).
From that day we came out constantly. He met my family and I met his friends. They were quite nice, but never tried to get to know me better - which, thinking now, makes sense. (Robert later admitted that the "brothers" wondered how long he could "continue with this acting.")
"What is this?" I asked after learning the truth, waving his patent in the face. He insisted that a mistake had been made there. He then accused me of wiretapping (a typical example of emotional abuse, friends).
Here is the part that really kills me: I did not part with him right away. Like any unstable 23-year-old, I made a pro-counter list.
Listen, if Robert had told me his true age right away, I might not have allowed him to become so serious, even though I liked his age regardless. What about lies, emotional abuse, conspiracy? Hard to cross.
I've been moving forward ever since, but I keep asking, "Can I see your ID?" whenever I meet someone new.
* The name has been changed to protect a fragile ego.
Adapted from Cosmopolitan
