When I married my husband in 1991, I was in my late 20s and my husband was, well, a few years younger. It wasn't a massive age gap but -- as the years went on -- I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it from time to time.
Last weekend, I did something radical. Not radical as in going from blonde to brunette to pink and then back to blonde again. But radical nonetheless. I spent an entire evening compiling contact information for all the parents of my 13-year-old daughter's closest friends.