It’s an age-old question. It’s a debate that I’ve seen divide dinner tables of beautiful left-wing sex-positive smokers. It’s a question – not surprising, given the general premise of this column – taken up by Carrie and company as they investigate the latest drug of choice in the New York dating scene in season one of Sex and the City: younger men. Indeed, the age-gap relationship is a scenario we’ve all seen play out terribly, seen work beautifully, and judged harshly from afar. And the thing that divides, creates disaster, and inspires judgment is not simply a difference in number – it’s a difference in power.
Now there’s a general rule that always starts this game. The equation, of course: Half your age then add seven to work out if someone is too young for you to date; take seven off your age then double it to work out if someone is too old for you to date. The problem is that where love, sex, and romance are concerned, an equation can’t always provide you with the answer. Desire and attraction are not the same as basic math.
Many would argue for the legal line: that if all parties are of consenting age and are able to fully and actively consent, then there’s not a problem with age-gap relationships of any pairing. But much like the equation, this line of thinking doesn’t take into account the difference in power between an 18-year-old and a 68-year-old, and, as we know, the law is rarely created in favour of the more vulnerable. In reality it’s worth a little more consideration.
When I was 17, I had a short relationship with a man in his sixties. Then, it felt good – the sex was great, we were both totally consenting, and of course we never went public with it. Behind our closed doors it felt like we were some kind of equals because even though the power dynamic was askew, who held that power so often shifted between us.
Yes, there is a power dynamic to be reckoned with in a May-December relationship, but debates about age gaps often assume that the dynamic we speak of is simply one-way. The older person has all the power; the younger person is exploited. In my experience, the older person in the relationship has the power of experience, sure, but the younger person has the power of youth, of access to culture now. When I dated older men, I derived a certain power from their desire for me, and it really turned me on. In turn, I felt taken care of, like I was learning at the hands of someone who had more life experience than me. I used to say, “Old men fuck, cook, and talk better,” and, in many cases, it was true – especially when my dating pool was a group of confused, shame-filled late-teen/early-twenties gay men with late-onset emotional adolescence, just like me.
While we like to think that relationships and desire are morally pure and separate from something as ugly as power, in many relationships, that’s just not the case. And should it always have to be? It’s the same reason ugly rich guys date models, and models date ugly rich guys. It’s the same reason we so often look for what we don’t have in a partner.
I am aware that thus far I have only discussed gay relationships, but there’s a reason for that. The fact that queer lifestyles and relationships have become so much more visible in mainstream culture has perhaps skewed our idea of what’s acceptable when it comes to an age gap in relationships. Think of a relationship like Holland Taylor and Sarah Paulson’s. The visibility of these kinds of glamorous queer relationships perhaps scrambles the ways we imagine the power dynamic between couples of older men and younger women that we are more accustomed to seeing.
This, however, is to assume that the younger women engaging in these relationships aren’t knowingly exploiting the age-gap dynamic too. And why shouldn’t they? Just because it’s not a perfect story – because culturally we think romance should be fair, just, and morally pure – doesn’t mean this isn’t what happens in reality.
Years on, I wonder if I would consent to a relationship of such an age gap as I did at 17, knowing what I know about how consent isn’t neutral but contextual. Was it possible for me to fully consent to a relationship with someone triple my age? When put like that, no. And yet years on, I would describe that relationship – and many of the relationships I had with older men – as among the most respectful and tender relationships of my dating life. Occasionally, of course, I experienced the unfair exploitation of the power dynamic that comes with an age gap, which left me feeling powerless and humiliated. I’m sure I also exploited my powers at times in relationships too. But this mistreatment was not overwhelmingly a feature of my relationships with older men. In fact, this is the case across my whole dating history. Like all relationships, some will go right and some will go wrong.
Perhaps we’re so fascinated by age-gap relationships because it’s easy to assume that there will be exploitation and imbalances of power at a higher frequency. But to me it figures that in a society in which we are taught how to acquire, possess, and own before we are taught to love and liberate, there are submerged dynamics of power and exploitation in many relationships, regardless of the age of the participants. In relationships where people are concerned with liberation, freedom, and respect, perhaps an age gap doesn’t matter.
