5 Questions: Tanja Brown on Midlife, Love and ‘Flipping the Script’

Conventional wisdom often draws narrow boundaries around what women are supposed to want in midlife. But for Colorado author Tanja Brown, the past decade became a period of questioning those assumptions and writing honestly about what happens when someone decides not to follow the expected script.

Brown’s new memoir, “Flipping the Script: A Year of Borrowed Time,” explores a May/December relationship with a man 26 years younger and the cultural reactions that came with it. The book reflects on desire, independence and the social pressures that often shape how women are expected to behave as they age.

In this week’s 5 Questions, Brown discusses why she decided to share such a personal story, what she learned from the relationship and why she believes midlife can be a time for reinvention rather than retreat. If you have any further questions after reading our conversation, stop by Tattered Cover Aspen Grove in Littleton on Friday, May 29 at 6 p.m. to hear Brown give a book talk.

You’ve recently written a book called ”Flipping the Script,” where you wrote about dating a much younger man, among other things. Why did you choose to share your story?

The short of it is that I wrote the book to make sense of the choices I made and to give other women permission to question societal expectations they were taught to live by. I originally started writing the book for myself as a way to process an emotionally charged decade of my life. I have known for a while how few stories exist about women in midlife making unconventional, deeply personal choices. The book became about giving voice to those moments, when you have to decide whether to live honestly or live quietly, and the costs involved in it all. 

I wrote this because women don’t expire. We don’t age out of ambition or desire, and we don’t stop being funny, messy, powerful, exhausted or hopeful. Midlife isn’t the end of the story; it’s often when the real reckoning begins. And I wanted to tell that story with honesty, self-reflection and without apology.

What kind of reactions did you get to your May/December romance with a man 26 years your junior and how did you deal with the scrutiny? 

Honestly, the public reaction was milder than people might expect—a few confused looks, two “Is that your son?” moments, and one neighbor who kept insisting on clarification because he simply couldn’t compute the age difference. Would he have dared to comment in this way if the script was flipped and I was the younger one? Certainly not, but mostly, people saw that we were a couple.

Having grown up in Europe, where age-gap relationships are often met with far less moral panic, I was always aware that some of the discomfort here felt culturally amplified. In many parts of Europe, it’s seen as unconventional, maybe, but not scandalous. In the U.S., especially when the woman is older, it can feel like a disruption to an unspoken rule.

The real scrutiny was quieter. Some women in my circle chose not to engage with it at all. It wasn’t confrontation; it was avoidance and I adjusted to it. I found myself compartmentalizing. Friend meetups left me on the sidelines feeling single, as no one dared to ask me how my boyfriend was doing. My relationship was mostly ignored, and I felt myself shrinking enough to make everyone in the room feel more comfortable.

That taught me something important: Society doesn’t just judge loudly; it also withdraws quietly. And sometimes, without realizing it, we participate in our own disappearance. I never wanted to admit this to myself, but it was hurtful and changed me.  

As a woman in midlife, what made this relationship satisfying? 

Great question, because this is really what mattered to me. I had just turned 50, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like a woman again, not just a caregiver, employer and a woman playing by the rules. It was just me, a woman in her body, in her life, in real time.

He was full of life, curious, irreverent in the best way, and he reminded me of who I was before I became defined by responsibility. I don’t resent the roles I earned—mother, business owner and advocate. I’m proud of them. What I do resent is how much shrinking came with them and how little room there was for my interior life.

Yes, it was sexually satisfying, deeply so, but it was more than that. I valued the mental stretch. The exposure to someone younger but emotionally thoughtful. He challenged my thinking, my assumptions and my pace. It wasn’t just about feeling desired. It was about feeling awake.

Were people who disagreed with your choice misguided?

I wouldn’t call people who disagreed with me misguided. I think many of them were operating from cultural conditioning, especially around double standards for women versus men. We’re used to seeing older men date younger women without question. Reverse the genders, and suddenly it becomes commentary.

I’m not advocating that everyone make the choices I made. I’m advocating for women to be seen fully as they age. To be allowed to build lives based on what fulfills them, not just what feels socially acceptable. And I think we’d all benefit from creating more room for other people’s complexity instead of narrowing it

Why did it eventually end? Are these kinds of relationships sustainable?

I think lifelong sustainability would have been difficult, at least for me. For some people, these relationships absolutely can work long-term. But for me, the combination of societal pressure, long-term foresight and the quiet insecurity that built up over years of self-shrinking eventually made it too painful. It wasn’t about love disappearing; it was about my alignment shifting.

Even at 50, when it began, I knew there was likely a time stamp on this relationship. And I was okay with that. I would rather have lived that decade fully with passion, growth and intensity than never have stepped into it at all.

Maybe we need to rethink the idea that every relationship is meant to last forever. Some relationships are meant to transform you. And when they’ve done that, you honor them for what they were.