I was the only one worried about our age difference

I met Kevin because he gave up the last open treadmill at our gym.

I thought he was only being polite.

A few weeks later, I was sitting across from him at a nail table, wondering whether a 33-year-old man could really be interested in a 46-year-old woman like me.

My name is Claire. I am white, blonde, full-figured, and divorced.

Kevin is Vietnamese and works as a nail tech in Prescott, Arizona.

That morning at the gym, he had already placed his water bottle beside the treadmill. When he noticed me waiting, he stepped away and told me I could use it.

I thanked him and said I was fine waiting.

He smiled and moved to another machine anyway.

After that, we started saying hello whenever we saw each other.

Kevin was quiet but easy to talk to. He never gave me the feeling that he was staring at my body or judging how slowly I exercised.

One day, I noticed how neat his hands looked and asked what kind of work he did.

He told me he was a nail tech at a salon nearby.

I had been looking for a new salon, so I booked a manicure with him the following week.

At least, that was the excuse I gave myself.

Kevin recognized me as soon as I walked in.

During the appointment, we talked about work, family, and dating after divorce. I admitted I had stopped going out with men because most of the attention I received did not feel serious.

Kevin said dating was difficult for him too because he worked six days a week.

I liked talking to him, but I kept reminding myself that he was thirteen years younger.

I assumed he was only being friendly because I was his customer.

Then I started seeing him more often at the gym.

Sometimes he finished his workout around the same time I did and walked with me toward the parking lot.

He remembered my manicure appointments and asked how my nails were holding up.

I began booking with him every two weeks.

One evening, Kevin asked whether I wanted to get coffee after the gym.

I laughed because I thought he was joking.

He looked confused and asked why I would think that.

I told him I was 46 and probably not the kind of woman a 33-year-old man planned to date.

Kevin said the age difference had never bothered him.

He liked my confidence, my sense of humor, and the fact that I spoke to him normally instead of acting surprised that a man worked in a nail salon.

That was our first real date.

For the first few months, I kept waiting for him to change his mind.

If a younger woman talked to him at the salon, I became insecure.

If someone assumed I was his older coworker, I felt embarrassed.

Kevin finally told me that I was the only person constantly bringing up our ages.

He said he could not build a relationship with me while I kept preparing for him to leave.

That was hard to hear because he was right.

I had been treating him like a temporary visitor before he had done anything wrong.

We have been together for almost a year now.

I still get my nails done at his salon, but Kevin says I no longer need to invent reasons to make appointments.

Sometimes we use the treadmills beside each other.

He still offers me the better one.

The difference is that now, when we finish, we leave the gym together.