He Was a Grown Man and You Were 15
The romanticization of seeking older male attention
Why do we romanticize a woman’s pain, her silence, and her diminishment in so many of the stories we tell? Why are young girls encouraged, directly or subtly, to find worth in being controlled, reshaped, or even “ruined” by someone older and more powerful?
It’s unsettling how often I see posts romanticizing teacher student relationships, and how often they appear on platforms like TikTok. Captions such as “how I look at him knowing I’m underage” are paired with glamorous edits of actresses from the ’80s or ’90s set to Lana Del Rey tracks, reframing these inappropriate dynamics as desirable or aspirational. Don’t get me started on those TikTok slides that show where the user “allegedly” is sharing their flirty texts or email exchanges with their teacher, and how many young girls are commenting asking for advice on how to do this themselves.
This normalization of inappropriate teacher student relationships isn’t just confined to TikTok trends, it reflects a broader cultural narrative that has persisted for decades. Stories like these have been romanticized in countless TV shows, movies, and books, painting these dynamics as forbidden love rather than clear abuses of power. From Pretty Little Liars’ Ezra and Aria to Gossip Girl’s Dan and Serena’s teacher student fling, the media often frames these relationships as thrilling and taboo, rather than predatory and damaging. By presenting them this way, these stories obscure the real harm such dynamics can inflict, turning them into fantasies that young girls are encouraged to chase.
The consequences of these narratives go beyond fiction. When young people see these relationships framed as exciting or enviable, they internalize the idea that their worth is tied to being desired by someone older and in a position of power. These TikTok trends, whether it’s sharing suggestive interactions or glamorizing fantasies of teacher student relationships, feed into a culture that prioritizes validation from authority figures over self respect and boundaries.
Take Priscilla Presley and Elvis, for example. Their relationship, beginning when Priscilla was just 14, has long been romanticized, despite the clear issues of control and manipulation. Sofia Coppola’s film Priscilla attempted to shine a light on the darker truths of their relationship: Priscilla’s isolation, her loss of autonomy, and the emotional toll of being molded into Elvis’s ideal partner. Yet, even with Coppola’s careful lens, the internet quickly twisted the story into something else entirely.
Countless edits romanticize the very mistreatment the movie sought to critique. They pair scenes of Priscilla’s sadness and longing with soft filters, dreamy soundtracks, and captions that glamorize her pain. The narrative shifts from a story of a young girl losing herself to a powerful man, to a tragic love story dripping in allure. It’s as if her struggles, her tears, her loneliness are recast as proof of a grand, intoxicating romance.
This skewed vision feeds the same dangerous narrative that young girls see reflected everywhere: that being desired by an older, more powerful man is not only aspirational but worth the suffering it brings.
It begs the question: why does society insist on turning a woman’s pain into something beautiful? And why are we so quick to dress up control and mistreatment as love?
The truth is: It’s easy to critique these things from the outside, to point fingers at the media or society for the messages they push. But when I reflect on my own actions, I have to admit that I wasn’t just a passive consumer of these narratives, I played into them. At 15, I was reckless.
Armed with my iPhone 6 Plus, I would find myself striking up conversations with men well into their 30s. It started innocently enough, casual chats about my day, my interests, or my future plans… but always with a subtle, deliberate edge.
I would flirt, dropping hints that I knew were inappropriate but calculated, just to see how far I could push the boundaries and elicit a reaction. At the time, I didn’t think of it as manipulative or dangerous. To me, it felt like a game, a way to wield some control, to feel noticed, to feel wanted. To feel powerful and oddly enough I did.
Looking back now, I cringe at how little I understood about what I was doing and what it meant. At 15, I didn’t grasp the power dynamics at play or how skewed the interaction was in favor of the older men I engaged with. I didn’t see the red flags: the way their attention fed off my naivety, the way they indulged my attempts to flirt instead of setting boundaries. To them, I was likely just another teenage girl looking for validation in the wrong places, but to me, their interest felt like a kind of proof.
The truth is, I didn’t want anything from these men. I didn’t want to meet them, I didn’t want to go on dates, and I certainly didn’t want anything serious. At 15, I had a strict 7 PM curfew, and my life revolved around school, sports, and hanging out with friends.
Beyond that, I was just another bored teenager spending too much time alone in my room, scrolling through apps and trying to find ways to entertain myself. For me, talking to older men wasn’t about connection or romance, it was about curiosity, about poking the bear just to see how it would react. I treated it like a game. I’d flirt with these men, tossing out carefully placed comments to see how far they’d take the bait, but it never felt real to me. I never let it leave the screen, never imagined it leading to anything beyond a few minutes of excitement.
To them, I might have seemed like I was seeking something deeper, but I wasn’t. I was just a bored kid testing limits, craving the thrill of attention without fully understanding the power I was playing with or how that game might look from their side.
But what happens when we start to peel back these layers? What happens when we question why we’ve built a culture where young girls feel compelled, to test their boundaries in this way?
He was 37, and I was 21. I said yes to the date because I wanted to see if I could do it, if I could really sit across from an older man and feel like his equal. He was kind, I’ll give him that. Educated, accomplished, and the kind of polite that made me wonder, if he always spoke this carefully or if it was because of me. He kept asking if I was okay, and I kept saying yes. But the truth is, I wasn’t. Not even close.
My eyes felt too wide, like they couldn’t shut even if I tried. My hands were blocks of ice in my lap, my ears ringing so loudly I couldn’t hear the music playing in the restaurant. I was too aware of everything, the years between us, the unspoken weight of the imbalance, the way his presence filled the space while I felt small and out of place. My chest ached with something I couldn’t name, but it felt wrong, suffocating. He didn’t feel like a peer or a partner. He felt like a father, and I felt like a little girl whose feet barely brushed the floor. Every word I said sounded like it belonged to someone else, someone playing dress up in heels that didn’t fit. By the time the night ended, I wasn’t sure what unsettled me more, the date itself or the way I’d let myself walk into it, thinking I could somehow belong there.
I want to be clear, I don’t have anything against age gap relationships inherently. I know there are couples out there thriving, building meaningful connections despite the years between them. What I do take issue with is the constant propaganda that teaches young girls to equate seduction with power, especially engaging with men 10x their age.
It’s not right. It’s not romantic, and it’s not empowering. The truth is, if you’re constantly measuring your worth by the attention of older men, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment and disillusionment. There’s nothing wrong with love, but love should never come with an imbalance of power, where one person holds authority over another, where the love you feel is tied to how much you can please or seduce someone else. T
he message that we’re taught; that seeking the approval or affection of older men somehow makes us more desirable, leaves us trapped in an endless loop of seeking validation in the wrong places.
We need to stop this narrative, especially for younger girls who are just beginning to navigate relationships.
It sickens me when I see those romanticized edits, the fandoms, the captions celebrating the relationship between a minor and an older man especially when it’s between a student and a teacher.
These are not cute fantasies; they’re dangerous. I’ve seen actual text messages between minor girls and older men posted like it's normal, like it's something to be admired. It's heartbreaking that this is what young girls are idolising. We’re letting them believe that their worth is tied to the attention of someone older, someone who holds power over them.
So I ask you: Why are we still romanticizing abuse, control, and manipulation, and why are we teaching girls that this is love?
Thank you so much for reading and all the support on my recent essays, it means the absolute world to me! Dont’ worry I will be writing more fashion related topics very soon. I just needed to get this opinion piece off my chest!
xoxo,
daughter of discourse <3
Girl I love this I could talk about this topic for days. The normalisation of pursuing older men has caused girls to get into situations they can't handle. None of them are aware of the mind fuckery it will put them through. It does work for some, but for many it will scar them. Young men do need to step up though. I also believe many girls pursue older men because it feels like they're the only ones with their shit together so young men come across as very immature compared to older men.
"that seeking the approval or affection of older men somehow makes us more desirable" I couldn't agree with you more, yet I suppose you know just as well as me that the propaganda runs DEEP. There's also this mind trick that teenage girls feel like if they "earn" the validation of an older man, it crowns them as "special" and proves their worth. Unfortunately, sobriety only hits after growing up and realizing that those fucking predators will validate any female human form of age xteen. Thank you for this piece; it's an issue I can't seem to stop thinking about. makes me feel like a child throwing a tantrum