Five years ago, my wife and I started dating. I was a teacher, and she was a student. I know, it sounds bad. But we're expecting our first child now, and I've been thinking about how we met and how I would explain it to our kids.
Yes, she was a minor when we started dating. Part of me is not proud of that fact, but when I first spoke to her, I never imagined she was a minor. I thought she was a woman nearing or already in her 30s.
We met on a chat site. Sketchy, I know. But I was 35, single, and just wanted to talk to anybody at the time. I wasn't looking for romance, just a friend, I suppose. She was 16 and curiously exploring the world of random strangers.
She was coy about her age. That should have been a hint, but women aren't always forthcoming about their real ages. So I ignored the deflections. She refused to tell me where she lived or what her occupation was. Fair enough, not everyone wants to tell a supposed random stranger everything only to find out afterwards it's someone you know.
So we just talked about religion, politics, society, philosophy, science, and our personal struggles. No 16-year-old should be so advanced in their reasoning or hold such carefully thought-out opinions. But there she was.
There were times I believed I was talking to an older woman. Sometimes her thoughts took me completely by surprise; I felt like I was talking to a senior with far more experience in life than I. She was well read. I even had to read up on topics in the middle of our conversations just to keep up with her. I look at her sometimes and wonder if she's a little old woman stuck in a young woman's body.
We never facetimed or called. She only wanted to chat. Never shared any socials with me. We always met on the chat site. First once a week, then twice. Soon we were talking to each other every day, our talks ending at one in the morning for me most days. I never knew whether she was east or west coast.
But her age or location didn't matter to me. I just enjoyed our talks. She laughed at my jokes and would poke fun at me mid-joke sometimes. "Mr. Math" is what she started calling me when I told her I was a calculus teacher. I never saw the end of the math puns in our conversations.
I really felt like we connected, and as a single 35-year-old man, I began to wonder about the woman I spent my nights talking to. This was around three months after we started talking. I just couldn't stop thinking about her. I wondered what she looked like, sounded like, her laugh, her smile, what it would be like to hold her hands.
Stop. I know you're judging me. Consider it from my side: I had no idea she was a teenager! All of our interactions were online, and she only gave me her name, Madison. I wasn't even sure if that was her real name. I started to wonder if I was being catfished. But that's on me; we were just talking. Even if I wanted more, she never expressed interest in a relationship, so what was going on between us at the time was fine.
Until she suggested we started dating. I admit, I was happy. I was finally going to get to see her, to know more about her. We didn't face time, but we started calling. Again, only through the site. I was sad, but hearing her for the first time, I knew I was in love.
She had a silky voice that, honestly, took my breath away. And an accent I couldn't place — more deflection on her part— but added to the allure of her voice. I heard her laughter, her sadness, her anger, her exhaustion. She was tired most nights we spoke; I could hear it in her voice.
Then one day she fell asleep while listening to me talk about my day. I hadn't known it at first because she was still answering. Then I realised she was talking to me five sentences late. By the time I stopped to listen, I heard the heavy breathing of deep sleep. Then an ear deafening snore. She snored like an old man. She still does, whenever she's really tired. She hates when I bring it up, but it's too funny not to.
A year after we first started talking, I confessed.
"Madison, I love you."
Of course, she had to be coy.
"Wow, Mr. Math, you haven't seen the prize yet, and already you love it?"
"I know enough about you to know that I love you. I don't care what you look like."
"Oh really?"
"Well, unless of course you're a man, and everything between us this past year was a lie."
"I've only told you the truth about me."
"All the more reason for me to believe I love you."
Then she told me where she lived—not her house but her city. Three cities away from me, my heart raced with that knowledge. Immediately I booked an apartment, made arrangements to leave my post, and tried to move to teach at one of the schools in her city.
I got lucky. There was an opening at South City High School. When I got the job, I felt like the universe was cheering me on. I moved as soon as I could. Didn't tell her anything. I wanted to be in her city to accidentally cross paths with her, to see her reaction when we met face-to-face.
First day on the job, I didn't have many expectations. They were teens, and as a new teacher, I needed to make a good enough impression on them so at least they would be interested in learning from me. I saw the roll and laughed quietly to myself. Then, when they were settled, I called.
"Madison Du Bois"
"Here sir."
I froze. I never knew swallowing could almost kill you. I looked at the girl who spoke. She had a blank look on her face. I've never felt sick standing in front of a class. But in that moment, when she answered me with that silky voice and that accent, I felt like I was going to faint. I couldn't believe my ears. No, no, maybe I'm not thinking straight.
"Madison Du Bois?"
"Yes, sir, Mr. Keller. Is something wrong, sir?"
I was dumbfounded. The woman I had spent the last year talking to, the woman I confessed my love to, was a teenager!
"What's with the accent, Maddie?"
"You're terrorising the new teacher. Look at him, he's getting Vietnam flashbacks!"
I was played by a teenager. I was hurt, disgusted, and sad, but most of all angry. Angry with myself and with her. I got through the day somehow; I don't know how, but I did. I couldn't wait to get home to talk to her. I needed to know why she pretended and why she lied to me.
"I didn't lie to you."
"Like hell you didn't!"
"I never gave you my age or occupation."
"It's a lie of omission. You knew how old I was! You knew it wouldn't be right for us to be together. What, were you getting kicks of off trolling an older man?"
"I love you, Sam."
"Like hell, you do. I'm done with you. Go do your homework, kid."
An overreaction, I know. But I felt betrayed. I thought I was dating a woman. A woman ready to be a wife, ready to be a mother. I wanted to give the woman I dreamed about every night those things. Instead, I got a teenager.
I ignored her on the chat site and tried to move on. I couldn't. It didn't help that I saw her almost every day. I had to make conscious efforts to stop myself from looking at her. I had spent the better part of a year fantasising about her. Now I got to see her, and she bore a lot of similarities to my fantasies; I couldn't look away.
Then one evening, while I was skipping through random chats, I saw a broadcast: 'Mr. Math, I need to talk to you'. I debated with myself for half an hour before messaging her. She didn't want to chat. She wanted a video call. I was as cold and callous as I could muster. It hurt me more than I was trying to hurt her.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth, Sam—"
"Mr. Keller, to you."
That hurt her. And it ached me. But I had to keep reminding myself in the back of my head, she's a minor!
"My parents are willing to give their approval for our relationship. But they want to meet you first. Can you come over?"
"How stupid do you think I am, Madison? Really? You want me to come over to your house at seven in the evening. Is this the final stage of your prank?"
"I've never pranked you. Where is the man that said he loved me and didn't care what I looked like?"
"That was before I found out you were a minor!"
"...My parents want to meet you, Sam."
"I'm sure they do. I'll be facing the wrath of your father, and if I survive that, prison."
She looked to her right and spoke to someone off-screen.
"I told you he wouldn't believe me."
An older voice called out to me.
"Mr. Keller, I trust you remember my voice; I'm Madison's father."
I remember that cocky, deep, masculine voice. The realtor I called when looking for an apartment to move into.
"Mr. DD?"
"Indeed. I'm inviting you to have dinner with us. We need to talk."
Yeah, you know it. I was screwed. A thousand things ran through my mind. The number one thing was to run away. Get out of town; just go; maybe go west; and don't look back. No, more than likely, the cops would catch me in a few days. And by right, I was innocent! She was the one who didn't tell me she was a minor. Fine, I went to dinner.
Her parents were pleasant. They didn't seem at all angry. And there were no cops lurking, no hidden cameras, and no one jumping out of closets to bust me. We just talked over dinner. Her father, Daniel, wanted to know how we met. I told him. In fact, I gave him the whole story, so he knew I was innocent.
Now, Madison's parents were sitting on opposite ends of the dinner table, while she and I were sitting face to face. I couldn't look at her and kept my full focus on her father. But she kept looking at me and wouldn't touch her food. She just sat there, waiting for me to look at her. Whenever I think back to that day, I regret how much of a prick I was. Madison's over it, but I can't let it go.
Her father was surprisingly very open about why he was okay with me dating her.
"Madison is her mother's only child. After her mother died, I wasn't a father to her. I can't undo the past, but I'm trying to make things up to her. You're right; she's very mature for her age. She knows what she wants. Perhaps what I failed to give her as a father, she sees in you. She sees you as the best option as a husband and a father for her children."
I looked at her then. There was so much longing in her eyes. She was begging me to give her another chance. Her eyes were puffy and red. She'd been crying. Even now, there was a spring threatening to overflow.
"She's a minor."
"She'll be 18 next year."
"That doesn't mean it's ok."
"Frankly, the fact that you're 5 years younger than I am annoys me. But Madison has never been a child. She has always had an adult's wisdom and reasoning. Considering your actions so far, I trust you with her."
I couldn't believe my ears. He really was okay with me dating her. I was completely confused; I didn't know what to feel. Should I be happy? Concerned? Disgusted? I stared back at Madison. Our relationship before I met her replayed in my mind, merged with my memories of her at school. I came to a quiet, sad conclusion. I did want to keep dating her.
More than that, I could see myself marrying her. I knew Madison as a mature woman. She wasn't like other teen girls or women in their 20s who are still confused about themselves and what they want in a relationship or from their partner. She knew herself and what she wanted. If I waited the year, we'd have to start over, getting to know each other. She might not trust me again.
"Ok."
The springs in her eyes overflowed as she smiled at me.
"But you need to focus on your studies. We won't talk every day like we used to. We can have a date night once a week in your parent's presence."
"I agree to your conditions." She nodded.
So we dated through her final year and her two years of college. When she turned 20, we got married, and she dropped out of college and moved in with me. She said she wasn't sure what she wanted out of college, so it was a waste of time for her. Her father helped me buy a house when we got married. Mind you, she asked me to marry her. Her argument was that I would be a grandfather if we waited too long to start a family.
She had a good job as a manager's assistant until two months ago. Now that her delivery date is approaching, I'm excited to meet the first addition to our family. The doctor says it's a girl. I just know she's going to be a handful, like her mother.
Madison wants her to grow up with a bit of freedom. I agree. One thing I know for certain; our daughters will never date before they're 25, and I'll be overseeing all their online activity. 162Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOkq70W16Qb
