Three Years; August 25 2019

The people have spoken.

When it comes to the topic of age gaps, I am an utter hypocrite. There’s no getting around that. It isn’t a point of pride, but I also refuse to be ashamed, so let’s head off the flagellation right now.

There is a three year difference between myself and my long-term partner. We’ve been together in some form or another since I was eighteen – legally, an adult – and she was fifteen. We’d met before, as a seventeen and fourteen year old respectively. No one was thinking, ‘let’s start up a romantic relationship.’

Okay, actually, I’m going to give more personal background than you probably need. We’re both asexual people, designated female at birth, on the aromantic scale of things. We love each other more than I can express and have an extremely healthy relationship. We’re open about our feelings, communicate them often, are respectful of each other’s needs... All that stuff that keeps couples consistently happy and strong together. And we’ve always been that way. Circumstances matured us early. But that does not erase the basic fact that when I was 20 years old, she was 17.

That’s the exact gap that stirred some controversy on Twitter this week. If you weren’t there for it, the gist is this: an author (I won’t name names) replied to someone on Twitter who mentioned that a relationship between a 20 and 17 year old is unhealthy, defending it in the context of their book. It’s a fantasy world, very circumstantial, etc. There was some uproar, because no matter how it’s framed, the facts remain: people look to fiction. We are, as a society, influenced by what we read and watch. If you want to argue this, do some Googling and come back when you’ve realized you’re wrong.

Now, not only was I a 20 year old romantically attached to a 17 year old, I also write fanfiction with age gaps between characters. Everything is tagged accordingly, because I don’t want anyone clicking a link to something I write without knowing damn well what they’re getting into. The sexualization of minors for an adult audience is a problem. A disgusting problem.

So, which side of the fence does this put me on? If you’re still with me in this post, chances are good you want to find out the answer and hoping for a definitive ‘yay’ or ‘nay’. Here’s what I’ve got:

Nay. In original fiction written for an audience, regardless of whether that audience is adult or young adult, a teenager should not be in a relationship with an adult. I’m not going to say all relationships between a 17 and 20 year old are automatically toxic, but enough of them are that I can’t, in good conscience, condone the romanticizing or normalizing of that age difference. Teenagers may be attracted to older people (and frequently are) but the idea that an adult should want to pursue a relationship with a minor should be heavily discouraged.

But also? When it comes to fanfiction, I say: why not? If an age gap exists between two characters you already read romantic chemistry between, then the idea is already there. I think there’s a different mindset people approach fanworks with, and that’s key. Oftentimes as well, the reader either grew up identifying with a character who canonically doesn’t age, or is currently closer to the younger character’s age. Trying to keep adult content away from teenagers in this era is just not going to happen. I think the healthiest thing we can do is tag everything appropriately and address the unrealistic aspects.

And finally, for real life relationships... I honestly think it depends. I’ve been in toxic relationships before, with younger AND older people, and at different ages. It’s all dependant on the individuals in question. Blanket generalizations never work, and automatically condemning people who are actually in a pretty great partnership can actually be the spark that destroys a person.

It’s vague and a lot more middle-of-the-road than I’m generally comfortable with, but I hope my stance gives some interesting perspective, even if you don’t agree with it!

Now it’s story time.

Nursing a cup of strong coffee, Leander sat across from me in silence for a good minute before I felt uncomfortable enough to say something. Lacking social practice, all I managed was an uncomfortable, “So...”

“So,” he echoed. He couldn’t stop staring at my living room table. It took up most of the space in my modest cabin and bore the battle scars of a well-loved piece of furniture. I didn’t even know how all of the stains got there.

I leaned back into my chair and lit the end of my pipe. If this was going to be a while, I thought I should make myself comfortable.

“So I’ve been wrong,” Leander went on, “about everything.”