The wine glass pulls away from her lips and she gestures it aside in a way that has the contents splashing. She's a little strung now, because she's torn between what she should do, and what she wants, and that's upsetting her.

"Well, of course it's made a difference," she says, dropping her voice somewhat and trying not to look too crestfallen. She doesn't know why it's hitting her now, when she knew he was younger than her from the moment she met him. Perhaps she had hoped he was on the right side of 30, just a little closer, a little more realistic. It's not that she ever expected him to want something long term with her, but him telling her his age makes it feel like all possibility has been shot.

"It's like you said. I keep picking the wrong men," she grimaces out a smile and takes another deep drink.