As Evan* leaned in to kiss me again, my nerves made me state the obvious reason that we could never work. ‘Dude, you’re 20!’ I blurted out. Granted, this wasn’t exactly a flaw he had control over – but it was one I couldn’t see past. ‘I turn 21 in a few weeks!’ he replied, as if that was a countdown to maturity and somehow made things better. ‘Besides, you don’t look much older than me,’ he added.

God bless him, I thought, knowing full well that my Botox, 7,000-step skincare routine, and countless green juices likely were working overtime to cover up the almost 10 years between us. By all accounts, Evan was a man: muscular, assertive, undeniably horny and he didn’t seem to care if I returned his compliments – though perhaps that’s because he was more interested in getting me to stroke something other than his ego.

And yet, when I looked at him, all I could think about was the imbalance of power and the responsibility I felt over him. I realised then that I’d wildly overestimated my ability to overlook his youth. When Evan first messaged me, his profile didn’t show his age (Grindr lets you be as anonymous as you wish). With thousands of members from all over the world, our vibrant LGBTQ+ WhatsApp channel is a hub for all the latest news and important issues that face the LGBTQ+ community.

Simply click on this link, select ‘Join Chat’ and you’re in! Don't forget to turn on notifications!. He appeared young though, he sent his nudes before I even knew his name. But after we exchanged a few messages, I asked him for an answer, it turns out, I didn’t want to hear. ‘You’re a kid!’ I said after he revealed his age. ‘What?’ he replied. ‘I really am 20! I can show you my ID.’.

If anything, this reply only cemented his youth. In a way, it was cute that he thought I didn’t believe him rather than realising my discomfort with our age gap. But ultimately that’s what it felt like for me: uncomfortable. Putting the other immediate issues I had – like him living with his mum and, worst of all, being closeted – to one side, already I was grappling with viewing him as a liability rather than just a lover.

I had visions of his mum knocking at my door like a frantic Karen, threatening to sue me for showing her son the ride of his life. Maybe I was giving myself too much credit, but my concerns weren’t unfounded, even if they were hypocritical. In the past, I’ve typically been the younger one in my sexual conquests and romantic relationships. At his age, I slept with men in their 30s (hell, sometimes 40s and 50s), and I firmly believed myself to be as grown as my erections.

But, as I entered a new decade myself, I could now see that I had been far from emotionally ready to be with these men or able to understand and resonate with the same experiences. Elizabeth Earnshaw, relationship therapist and author of Til Stress Do Us Part, says I wasn’t wrong to feel this responsibility over him because, medically speaking, I was more mature than him. ‘The prefrontal cortex is one of the last parts of the brain to mature, and is fully developed by the mid-20s. This part of the brain has a huge impact on planning and making good decisions,’ she explained.

‘It is the part of the brain that allows us to weigh the pros and cons of our decisions. Without this development, people tend to take more risks without weighing consequences. While I’d like to think sleeping with me is one of the best decisions anyone could make in their lifetime, that didn’t erase the fact that I couldn’t hold Evan’s judgement to the same standard as mine. That’s why, at first, I turned Evan down.

But what many people outside of relationships with big age gaps don’t realise is that the older person is not necessarily the one to make the first move or be pushy. Often, it’s the younger person leading the charge. As such, Evan was persistent and suggested video chatting to prove he was old enough. I held back my laughter as he wore a hoodie over his head, slumping back, trying to emulate the coolness of a hip-hop music video.

Despite myself, I thought he was cute and funny, which made it easier for my curiosity to keep engaging. I recognised my younger self in his determination. ‘Fine, come over,’ I said eventually. ‘But we’re not going to have sex.’. But after we agreed to meet, I couldn’t help but keep thinking about my little brother, who was the same age as Evan. I wouldn’t let him get near the more radical sides of gay culture or apps like Grindr with a 10-foot pole – there are dangers and situations that I wouldn’t feel comfortable with him participating in, even if I did so willingly – so why was I entertaining the idea now?.

On the other hand, I thought: ‘If people can decide to go to war, drink, and vote around that age, why can’t they make love with a person much older?’. Our interaction was supposed to be ‘no strings attached fun’; it was anything but. Earnshaw says that before the development of the prefrontal cortex, people are still in what is considered ‘the adolescent brain’ – which is not a term I’d want associated with any of my lovers – so, I decided to send him home.