Thinking back now, with her always first to tell him that she loved him, he may as well have said ditto.
"I want to marry you," she said.
Thinking that he would marry her, she was dumb enough to tell a married man that she loved him enough to marry him. Yet, why not? If she told him that she loved him, wouldn't the next progression be that she wanted to marry him? What's so wrong with her telling her that she not only loved him but also wanted to marry him?
At that point in their relationship they had been seeing one another steadily for more than three years. Apparently with her no longer held at bay, obviously with his fun over, he was done with her. Only for all that she knew, in addition to being married, he may have someone on the side and as it turned out he did. He had several women on the side.
"Once my divorce is finalized, I want to marry you," he said obviously to placate her. "Then, once we marry, my dear Susan, we will live happily ever after," said Steven.
She was dumb enough to think that he loved her. Looking back now, she couldn't believe that she thought he'd divorce his wife to marry her. For such a smart woman, how stupid could she be? She was so naïve. She was so gullible to start a sexual relationship with her professor.
Still married to his wife of thirty years, she read about his 25th wedding anniversary party on the Internet five years ago. In hindsight, he didn't love her. In hindsight, she realized now that he never loved her in the way he said he did, in the way that she loved him, and in the way that he obviously loved his wife for him to still be married to her. In sadness he didn't marry her and they didn't live happily ever after, as he promised her they would. Now alone and a bit twisted in her payback revenge that turned from him to turn against all men, she didn't think that her unrequited love for Steven would bother her as much as it has for the past twenty years.
Yet, still holding a candle for him and expecting him to call her on her birthday or for Christmas or on Valentine's Day, as the years passed without hearing a word from him, not even a note, she suffered in silence. If it wasn't for her education in psychology and psychiatry, always analyzing herself and helping herself with her own internal dialogue of therapy, she may have become a raving lunatic. She may have become one of those women who stalked him and/or even harmed herself and/or murdered him and/or his family. So hurt, she may have harmed herself and/or taken her own life. Apparently, with her being hot enough and old enough to seduce young men while pretending to be their mother, she wasn't crazy enough to harm her beloved Steven or herself.
Where other women are driven to get married and have children, after removing men from distracting her, she was driven to complete her education and earn her PhD. Had it not been for Steven dumping her, married with children by now, she may have not earned her doctorate in psychology. Dependent upon a man instead of being dependent upon herself, she wouldn't have the control over her own life that she has now. Unless it was his money, she wouldn't have any money of her own. Yet, being that she's still crazy over him and/or just crazy, psychiatrists and psychiatrists are the craziest people on the planet after all. Apparently, according to her psychology professor, "It takes a crazy doctor to not only diagnose but also help someone who's certifiably nuts."
With that bit of self-discovery in mind, she realizes now that she's a little crazy for her to still be in love with a man who never loved her. It takes crazy for her to play the dangerous game of pickup and release that she's been playing ever since she graduated from medical school and discovered that she wasn't young and dumb anymore. Alone and bitter, Saturday night is her night to find companionship and comfort while striking her payback against men. Sad and angry over men in general but still sexually interested enough in men to find them, feel them, fuck them, and forget them, she hates men and takes her sadness and anger out on all men for what one man did to her.
* * * * *
In the way that men kept themselves safe by ducking in foxholes on the battlefield, Susan kept herself safe by ducking in a bar every Saturday night to arm herself with a new man. As if she was a sniper picking off one man at a time for them to take her home with them, she was just as dangerous. Collecting trophies, she collected young men that were nearly half her age. Otherwise so perfect in every way with a perfect grade point average, a perfect face, and a perfect body, if she had one foible it was having sex with men young enough to be her son. If she had one thing wrong with her, it was that she was certifiably nuts for her to be doing what she's been doing for the past seven years.
A true enigma, in the way that she talked and carried herself, she was Jane Hathaway of the Beverly Hillbillies in Ellie Mae Clampett's form, face, and figure. If she had one weakness, it was her need for sex and to get licked long enough and/or laid hard enough for her to experience an orgasm. As if she was a guy instead of a gal, it was all about the hunt, the seduction, the sex, and the orgasm. In the way that most men find them, feel them, fuck them, and forget them, that was her motto too.
Not caring much about the wants, desires, and feelings of the men that she used to pleasure herself for one night a week, as if they were nothing more than a human dildo, she only cared about herself. Having already paid her dues in her failure to find love, she gave enough of herself each day during her job as a psychiatrist listening to people's plights, peccadillos, and problems. She used the bad behavior of her patients to justify her abnormal and immoral sexual behavior. Saturday was her one day to relax and the way that she relaxed was by having sex with men young enough to be her son. Knowing the type, she specifically chose men who thought of her as their mom, mommy, and/or mother while having sex with her.
Knowing full well that young men are attracted to older woman, especially beautiful, well-kept, mature women with long, blonde hair, blue eyes, a shapely figure, and big tits, she was sexual bait in a bar filled with desirable, horny, young men. Waiting for a nibble, a bite, and a lick while fishing for compliments by appearing receptively approachable, especially after giving the eye to her intended victim, she smiled while batting her long eyelashes. She returned their sometimes inappropriate and/or obnoxious banter with her poignant, articulate, and intelligent conversation. With one thing quickly leading to another, she seldom left a bar alone. Instead of it being their choice to take her home, it was always her choice to go home with them. With them all thinking that they were the lucky ones, if only they knew that they were being manipulated by her for her personal, sexual satisfaction.
In the way she looked and in the way she dressed, her way of preserving the species, she threw back the ones that were too young and the ones that didn't sexually interest her and/or mentally challenge and/or physically stimulate her. Always within just a few, short minutes of sitting at the bar while sipping her drink, she got more than a few nibbles on her line from more than a few men. Why wouldn't she? With her movie star looks, she was gorgeously sexy.
One of a kind, in a hip bar filled with mostly young people, there was no other woman there who looked better than she did. Nonetheless, the ones who too readily approached her were the ones she didn't want. She wanted those rare diamonds that lay hidden in the dark corners and the far recessed spaces in the back of the room. She wanted the shyly quiet ones who were content watching everyone else having fun while they sipped their drinks before going home alone. Those are the men she knew were there looking for their mothers. Those were the men that she found erotically enticing and sexually arousing enough to seduce them with a look and agreeing to go home with them.
In the way that most men are attracted to shiny objects, as if she was a shiny object too, she was doing her best to attract attention without being blatantly obvious about it. Not putting her tits on display or flashing men her panties, she always acted like the lady that she was and the lady that she imagined their mothers would be too. Not looking for a lifetime commitment, a marriage proposal, exchanging vows at the altar, and/or an engagement ring, she just wanted a man for the night. In the same way that men wanted her for sex, she only wanted them for sex too.
Catch and release, she just wanted to have some humping and sweating, sexy, naked fun. Just wanting to get laid, so long as they gave her an orgasm, as if the men she picked up at the bar were nothing more than her sexual toy to use, she just wanted to have sex. With no difference in her libido, ready and willing, she was looking for sex in the way that men were looking for sex. Sex, sex, sex, with nothing personal, it was only about sex.
Tired from all the listening and even more tired from all of their talking, she was drained by those patients who were unable to help themselves. Exhausted from interacting with a multitude of people who weighed her down with an overload of their personal problems, mental difficulties, and emotional issues, she used sex as her way to eliminate her stress and to feel human again. Ready to play with one selected subject, as if watching a room filled with lab rats or monkeys, she looked around the crowded room to see which one man struck her fancy. Then, when she found one, targeting him, her victim for the night, with just a look and a sexy smile, as if a blue eyed laser shooting across the room, she gave him the eye. Being that she inherently knew which ones to choose as opposed to those who'd just pitch her a line in hopes that she'd pick them, with her having the most valuable player on base batting average, her sexual success rate was near one hundred percent.
Giving the bulk of the credit to her sexual success ratio to her training in psychology as a therapist and psychiatry as a psychiatrist, an unfair advantage in the way of a fisherman shooting fish with a gun, she had the ability to read a man from a distance of several, dozen yards. Additionally to her credit, she looked ten years younger than she was. Looking more thirty-something than she did forty-something, the young men who frequented this bar or that bar had already tired of a steady diet of young, dumb women looking for a relationship, a commitment, and/or a marriage proposal. With her someone different and someone new, they moved to her in the way that a moth was attracted by a bright light. Just by stealthily observing their behavior in the way she observed psychological subjects behind a mirrored glass window in Harvard's prestigious grad school while earning her doctorate in Psychiatry and her PhD degree in Philosophy, she could easily pick her prey.
