Dating youngest child

So when you’re discussing moving to a bigger place in a nicer area and they ask, with genuine astonishment, why the council tax will be higher, you’ll find yourself literally lost for words before explaining the reason in the same patient and probably condescending way parents tell their children not to touch a hot kettle. I now know so much about Forza Horizon (it’s a racing game, FYI) that I could probably tackle it on Mastermind.

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I’m not one for sweeping generalisations, but research has consistently shown that our birth order has a thing or two to do with the way we handle life, and my current relationship is fairly substantiating evidence. Of course, not all men-children are the youngest sons, and those dating them are not always the eldest daughters. But there are times, when I come home to socks on the floor or have to ask him to turn the TV down at 3am while I’m trying to sleep, that I wonder whether we’ve too easily fallen into the roles we’ve been playing throughout our separate lives: me, the caregiver and worrier; him, the care-free child and dependant. This scene – and variations thereof – is common in our relationship. Not because I’ve taken the time to memorise it, but because information like this just falls out of his head like water through a sieve.

He’s been shielded from the harsh realities of life by an army of older, wiser family members and as such he is kind-hearted and fun-loving and affectionate and I love him dearly, but my god, he is a man child of the highest order. ‘You’re not in until 3pm today,’ I sigh, as I drift back to sleep.

And if I forget, I feel guilty, like the parent who sent their kid to school in uniform on a Wear What You Like day.

…and/or instruct them on other aspects of social etiquette.

Each year, 15 million girls are married before the age of 18.

There are examples of eight-year-olds getting married in Afghanistan, Yemen, Polynesia, and Pakistan, with slightly older girls being forced into marriage in South America, Central America, the Caribbean, Africa, Asia, and Oceania.No, the cheap suit you bought 12 years ago for your very first job interview won’t cut it for my cousin’s wedding, sorry.We all pay bills and do laundry and change our toothbrushes regularly; it’s just fundamental life knowledge we somehow pick up over the years.It really fucks with my interior design aesthetic, and I’m always tripping over something, but I don’t care anymore. I don’t take life so seriously and, importantly, I have a hell of a lot of fun. Man Child and I have very different approaches to life and as such we complement each other well. His chilled-out, sunny demeanour has helped me let go of my control freak tendencies. But send them a shrieking Whatsapp voice message one day where you wail that you just can’t take it anymore and they’ll be so shocked and surprised that they might actually stop doing the thing that’s driving you to despair.