Well, I did it. I dated a guy younger than me. This should come as a surprise to, basically, anyone who knows me. But, the good news is, age is irrelevant out here. At least that’s what I’ll keep telling myself to justify the fact that I slept with a 20-year-old (he turned 21 soon after we met).
We lived in a tiny room (with 5 other people) for three weeks while working at the same hostel, so we got close fast. You can read what it’s like to hookup with someone that you share a room with here.
Georgetown was a nice guy, like that Northern/Minnesota/Wisconsin nice (think Marshall from How I Met Your Mother, but hotter). He was nerdy and shy on the outside, but as I got to know him I realized there was much more to him than that. Yes, I know how cliche this sounds. Turns out, Georgetown had a badass side to him. He drove motorcycles, he spoke Russian, he got into the occasional bar fight & was really good in bed. I personally don’t think men who get in bar fights are hot, but it’s still not something I’d expect from him.
The whole experience reminded me that I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. If I had met Georgetown in America, I wouldn’t have given him more than 7 minutes of my time. I probably would have passed him off right away (introduce him to someone and then walk away). But we ended up becoming best friends.
So, thank you Georgetown for being your nice, hilarious and goofy self. Thank you for taking Instagram-worthy pictures of me, giving me the confidence to drive a motorbike, teaching me how to say “I want Vodka” in Russian & the awesome sex. You will be missed.
Moral of the story is, don’t judge a book by its cover. You meet people exactly when you’re supposed to. People come & go from your life every day & we should cherish the time we have with them. We should value them for what they teach us along the way.