Confessions of a Transition Man 5

I had been meeting and dating women twenty years younger than I was. One was actually 25 years younger. In every case, these women had sought me out on line; I was not hunting young women at all. Each of them claimed to be fed up with the callous selfishness of men their own age, and thought an older man would be mellower, and they tried communicating with me. I admit that I went looking for an older woman.  I was looking at a friend site for a woman older than I was. At the time, I was 66 and she was 68. I thought maybe I could learn something instead of constantly teaching.

Since my divorce and the advent of the growth of the Internet, I had chosen to be totally open and honest on line. I might want to meet some of these women, and I don’t want to be trying to remember lies.  Besides, I feel my reality is attractive enough. So I reached out to an older woman who lived in Naples, Florida and we began to correspond by email. There was no Skype at that time.

It was obvious that she was an educated woman and honest, as well. I got the feeling that she wanted to be on the level with me as she correctly assumed I was with her. She became obsessed with the need to come meet me in person. As the communications between us went on, she told me more and more about herself. She had been in charge of a monthly religious newsletter for a Christian University. She needed the position to keep herself sober.

Patricia had been an alcoholic for a long time. She had been a ‘functioning alcoholic’ and was living with the man who’d been her drinking partner.  She hated him. She had stopped drinking in the hopes he would lose interest in her. She was very dismayed that he, too, stopped drinking. To make matters worse, he contracted a debilitating disease and just laid around while she went out to work. He needed very expensive medications which she felt obliged to supply, and she hated it.

She begged me to let her phone me.  I did and spoke to her briefly. She explained that a woman can judge a great deal from a man’s voice and his diction as well, I guess. She began to ask to come fourteen hundred miles to spend a week with me. I invited her and she flew up.  I met her at the airport and she immediately apologized about a lie she had told to the stewardess. They wanted her to disembark in a wheelchair but she didn’t want me to see her like that. She told the stewardess that we had been lovers when we were young and had reconnected on the Internet and this was our first face-to-face. So she agreed to accompany me instead of a wheelchair. I did notice the stewardess that walked away from her giving me a long look.

I took her home and made love to her. She did her best. She gave herself to me completely. It was obvious by the look of her vagina that she’d had virtually no sex for a long, long time. I gave her all I could because I felt sorry for her and wanted to help her claim her right to passion.  She was attractive, tall, lovely alabaster skin, short hair nicely silvered.

I liked her. I enjoyed her and I was sorry that she was grasping at me somewhat desperately. Finally, I agreed to visit her home during the winter, but didn’t want to meet her housemate. She said that would be no problem. She said I’d shown her how she’d wasted her life, and made her realize that she has to stop nursing a man she doesn’t like. He’s from a different plateau of her life.

She was going to take pleasure. She had been having fantasies about a rabbi on the university board. She was sending the parasite to a home and setting out to seduce the rabbi. I was again the teacher, even for an older lover.

Always the transition man; I was pleased for her.

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