Before I get to the hot and heavy parts, let me tell you how it all began and how we all got together.
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Today, I decided to add a simply framed 8"x10" mirror to my daily life. I'm going to put it on my desk, next to my all-in-one computer. No, I'm not vain, think I'm a handsome man or even into shocking, horror pictures. Retired and secure now, I need a way to keep my ego in check so the young lovelies don't have such an easy time empting my wallet. A little eye contact, a compliment or two and some feigned interest and I imagine they truly want to spend time with me, be friends, be travel buddies or go to a local event with me. My reflection will hopefully bring reality back into my distorted thoughts.
In the mirror, I will see a once handsome, up-beat, intelligent man, in good physical shape, who has a good sense of humor. However, I will also see what the young lovelies see, the wrinkles, age-spots and sags that come with my 60+ years. Four years ago I was widowed after a good marriage of thirty-five years. I freely admit, I do not know how to be single or date in a world that is very different from 1975. I don't seem to meet very many, healthy, active women my age. Subtract, twenty or thirty years and I meet dozens, and they fool me easily. If I look into my mirror, I'll remember that they are being nice, polite, maybe doing their job, maybe enjoying time at the bar on a slow night or maybe playing around with an "older man" fetish that they have no intention of making reality.
With my new prospective, I want to remember that when I was in my 20s, 30s and 40s, I never had a thought of being the intimate friend of a 60+ year-old woman. I did not fantasize about them. I did not once consider spending a hot and heavy evening with one, traveling with one or going out on a date with one. I might have missed out on something special, but, still, those are the facts.
My great epiphany happened last month. It was the combined results of flirting with two women. The first female is a gorgeous 50 year old, who I have tried to interest for three years. She is friendly, attentive, flirtatious and physical, yet she doesn't return my interest or accept my offers for dates outside of where she works. She is so beautiful the younger, more-handsome men pursue her. I'm sure that really highlights our age difference and physical differences. About the time of my 200th rejection from Miss Beautiful, a 26 year-old stripper started to work where I play pool once a week. I didn't even know her name on Father's Day when my son paid her to dance for me. Over the next couple of weeks, we only casually talked. However, the week after that she greeted me, "Hello, Daddy." That took me back. That had never happened before. I teased with her some and a couple of hours later she said, "I would like for you to be my Daddy."
I'm not an uninformed idiot, just and idiot. I knew she was single, struggling to get back into shape after the birth of her first child, had no skills and her come-on was just to make her life financially easier for a while. She had started stripping three months ago and was not earning very much. She is short, soft, has a great sly smile, her caesarian scar is prominent and she has a "Girl-next-door" shy smile. Several of the other dancers were up in arms about her. She needed money so bad she was "secretly" discounting her table dances from the usual $20/song rate and letting herself be touched freely.
With the last word of her sentence still ringing in my ears, I finally faced how the younger women see me. I was looking for a friend and companion. I was not thinking in terms of having to pay a young woman to pretend to be my friend. I'm sure there are a few women who like to be with older men, but "few" is the main word in that sentence. Being well schooled in business, the 80/20 rule is part of all my logic. My sexually fogged thinking cleared long enough for my brain to call out "Bingo! Look in your own age bracket or pay the going rate and keep shopping until you are satisfied with what you rent, the odds are you will never find a 30 or 40 year old loving companion."
To test my new theories about just how unappealing an "old guy" is to the young lovelies, I set up an experiment. I selected ten women. My 50 year old, in demand beauty, who always says the right things to keep me coming back, was on the top of the list. My needy new mom, looking for "Daddy" was second. I compiled a second list of the excuses that I thought I would get: previous engagement; can't get baby sitter; I'll have company; have to work, etc. Then I selected a non-threatening, short and fun activity. The Mount Hood Railroad had just started its beautiful fall four hour rides. I offered each of my lovelies the choice of a train ride with a wonderful Sunday Champagne Brunch or a weekday evening dinner ride. I did not mention any specific dates, just to make rejecting me a little tougher.
I checked my mirror before every contact. My long pursued beauty dismissed me so smoothly that I felt I should say, "Thank You." She was so experienced; no man ever knew where he stood with her. Then the very young cutie looking for "Daddy" to provide room and board, couldn't get a baby sitter, even before she selected any date on the calendar. After a few days, I had worked down to number seven on my list. I was getting smug, being able to predict reasons for my rejection.
Number seven was Candy, a woman who needs her make-up to hide some acne scars. She is half my age, intelligent, caring, very pretty all made up, with soft rounded curves, some extra pounds and has always shown an interest in me. However, she is friendly with everyone at the restaurant and for five years, I've dismissed her "interest" as how she treats all the flirtatious men. Many, many times we talked a minute here, a minute there, teased and flirted, as she served local customers at her ten assigned tables. Twice, she even had a late lunch with me before her evening shift. We talked about her nine year old daughter, her two-year old marriage and her financial problems. She's had many more sex partners than I have had and a wider range of sexual experiences. Still she is fun, mentally sharp and easy to talk with. Her life is strained and I sense that I'm a comfortable safe rock she can be open with. We were talking late at the restaurant while she cleaned; she surprised me.
"Jack, I've always told you that I would love to be your date when you need one for outings. I guess, I didn't make myself clear. You make the decisions. I will really enjoy going with you. I don't get out much. You tell me what to wear and where to be and at what time. It sounds like a lot of fun."
"Won't this cause some problems for you and Bob? Will this be some big secret?"
It was a few minutes after midnight. She had just gotten off work. She smelled like fried food. We held hands and walked down the street toward her apartment. In a block or two, we came across a closed restaurant with its outside tables and chairs, surrounded by a locked, low wrought iron fence. We stood by its hip high gate and kept talking.
"I'm not sure why he married me. You've seen me at my best and my worst and we still enjoy all our times together. Bob likes me all dolled up, outgoing and sexy but he does not even want me around for the 90% of normal life. He comes alive when we party but he gets angry when we talk about my daughter needing things, her school, our bills, house chores, work and relatives. Most of the time, he is not interested in sex, touching or even talking. He said that we would have an open relationship when we got married. He has gone out some with other women. I don't think he would care, or even ask, if I went out."
"I did not mean to uncover such a sore spot. I would really enjoy your company but do you want to go with me or just get back at "old hubby?"
"That was to the point. I enjoy being with you and I think you enjoy being with me. I feel good about me when I'm with you. You make me feel alive. You tease but don't push. I'm trying to find where I'm wanted and be with people who treat me as if I have a brain, who care about me and act as if I matter. I don't think I'm using you. I'm not thinking of making Bob jealous or even getting his attention. I think he has moved on, believes he is now above me, is embarrassed to be with me and feels that he is stuck with a lowly waitress."
"The thought of spending time with you, doing anything, makes me happy. Do you want to bring your daughter?"
"Maybe next time."
"Don't want to have to introduce me as your perverted Uncle Jack?"
"Remember, I've met your grand-daughters. Sydney would love to be spoiled half as much as you spoil them."
"Cute little girls, right out of the womb, know how to wrap me around their pinky fingers and get anything they want."
"Somehow, I missed that lesson. Why don't you teach me?"
"You already know too much about me. We have too many common friends. I don't think, I would be the one teaching. I suspect, I will learn about you, like what I learn and then yearn for something you cannot even guess."
"Want to bet?"
"Okay, I'll bring you a present when you go on the train with me if you can guess where I was going with my thoughts."
"You enjoy pleasing your woman and you enjoy her taste even more."
"Who told you such a wild fantasy?"
"I should not answer that."
"But you will."
"Yes, that lovely you've been chasing for years, enjoys letting all of us mortal females know how much she knows about her men."
