I used to judge relationships between pretty young women and wealthy older men. Then, I was in one.

• When people see young women with older men, they often think they can't have anything in common.
• I used to think this, too — then I met Jim.

She looks young. Long blonde hair, tight jeans, and heels. You know the type. She takes a seat at the bar next to a distinguished-looking man. He's well dressed with just a dusting of silver in his wavy brown hair. He notices her, but she plays coy. He strikes up a conversation peppered with mentions of his cars, beach house, collection of designer watches, art, cigars, rare butterflies, whatever. She laughs and laughs while he buys her drinks. Then, she gives him her number.

It's sickeningly obvious. She uses her youth and looks to attract the attention of an older, affluent man who will take her to fancy dinners on luxurious vacations and support her voracious appetite for shopping. In turn, she will make him feel vital; she is proof of his success, wealth, and manhood — a thinly veiled trade — her youth for his money. Right?

In my situation, it wasn't like that at all.

Jim and I hit it off immediately

I was 30, and it was three months after a difficult divorce. I was living in a new city and spending my time drinking cheap red wine and listening to Jason Derulo's "Ridin' Solo" — a hype song about the joys of being single that I cried uncontrollably to.

I could not stand the thought of spending another lonely night in my barely furnished studio apartment. I remembered a little martini lounge near my place and ordered an Uber. I slipped on the only good pair of heels I owned and, thanks to my dramatic anxiety-induced weight loss, a pair of jeans I hadn't worn in years.

The place was packed. I found a single open seat at the end of the busy bartop next to an older guy. Older than me, anyway. He had a polished look about him, and he chatted easily with the bartenders. When I ordered a glass of cabernet, he turned to me and asked, "So what brings you out tonight?"

"It was either this or throw myself off a bridge," I said, half joking. I have a dark sense of humor, but even I was surprised by what I blurted out to this stranger. But he nodded at me knowingly and, with a half smile, said, "I get it." And somehow, I knew he did.

It took us a few dates to get to the question of age

Jim and I went out on a couple of dates before he finally did what I didn't have the courage to do.

"So," he said, shifting in his seat uncomfortably while we were at dinner. "How old are you?"

"Thirty," I said, and I could see the color drain from his face. "And you?" I asked.

He took a long sip of wine and slowly said, "58." The words just hung there awkwardly between us. We couldn't even look at each other.

A few days after our date, I still had not heard from Jim, and when I finally did, he told me he wasn't sure if he should continue pursuing me. He told me he was a practical guy and couldn't see how dating someone my age made sense. I admitted I was also taken aback by our 28-year age difference. He was just a few years younger than my father. Nevertheless, by the end of our conversation, we had another date and a general understanding that we would just see how things unfolded.

I hated to admit it, but I was uncomfortable with the age difference. Yet many of the qualities that attracted me to Jim were related to his maturity. He didn't play games, and I always knew where I stood with him. He was stable, steady, and had a quiet confidence. I was impressed by him at every turn.

When Jim and I were out together, I could feel people's eyes on us. I was self-conscious about what others thought and simultaneously determined not to allow their judgment to influence my feelings. I knew what we looked like and what people were thinking because it's exactly what I thought about young women with older men — he's a pervert, and she's a gold digger.

If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, is it a duck?

Other people questioned our relationship

A close friend of nearly ten years repeatedly challenged my feelings for Jim and continuously implied that he must have money — as if I couldn't possibly see more in a man so senior to me. Her accusations were hurtful and incredibly dismissive of the relationship I was building with a wonderful man who was much more than his presumed financial success.

But the thing is, Jim did have money. While he was modest and never led with his wealth, after a few weeks of dating, it became evident that he was well off. Jim thought little of dropping hundreds on nice dinners. He lived in a gated community surrounding a golf course. (A retirement community, to be honest.) He appreciated a beautiful bottle of wine, Armani dress shirts, and travel.

I certainly wasn't turned off by Jim's financial success, but I wasn't looking for someone to take care of me either. I was hell-bent on making it on my own, building a small business, and fiercely protective of my newfound independence. Plus, Jim was an incredibly dynamic man. He had so much more to offer than money.

I'm glad I didn't let our age difference get in the way

It was difficult for people — including me — to wrap their brains around the fact that with so many years between us, Jim and I could have a deep and meaningful relationship not centered around my youth and looks or his financial success. They didn't know that I made every payment on my new Jeep and worked a full-time job, and they couldn't grasp that Jim's attraction to me was more than physical and we actually had a lot in common.

I made Jim late for everything, pushed salads on him constantly, and scared the hell out of him whenever I drove. He connected me with his lawyer, helped me with my taxes, and made sure I got oil changes and tire rotations. We vacationed, spent holidays together, and at least a couple of times a week, we'd play "What do you want for dinner?" We were a typical couple, but I knew most people would have to get to know us to see that; thankfully, many did. While there were people in both our lives who still questioned our intentions, the majority were able to look beyond the stereotype and see that Jim and I made a great couple.

Our story is, above all else, a love story. Our age difference did not define our seven years together; while Jim and I are no longer a couple, we remain very close friends. Had I listened to the many naysayers or allowed other people's judgment (or my own preconceived notions) to get in the way of my feelings for Jim, I would have missed out on one of the most important relationships in my life. I often wonder how the arbitrary boundaries we make in our lives keep us from the people, places, and experiences that could enrich them.