I met Bob at a restaurant on a summer afternoon in 2014.
I was enjoying a glass of white wine and sharing an entree with a good friend when he sat down next to us at the bar.
At 33, I found it much harder to meet men than it had been in my early twenties.
When I set up a profile on Ok Cupid, I was inundated with messages from men in their late forties, fifties and even some in their sixties.
By 24, my mother was divorced and saddled with a kid while my dad returned to being an eligible bachelor who continued dating young adults.
It seemed as if my friend's instincts were off, I thought. Earlier in our meeting, Bob described moving to the area as a 30-year-old in 1978 – the year I was born.
But just as I was about to leave, Bob admitted that he was not that interested in me as a writing coach, but as a romantic prospect. Yet when I rejected him, he looked stung and startled, as though he was completely unaware of our significant age difference.
He introduced himself and inquired about what we did for a living.
When I told him I was a writer, he became intrigued.