I envy my sister. I really do. She has a rare gem in her life that is more precious and priceless than the Hope Diamond. It’s a faithful husband.
Peata and Derrick’s marriage is so authentic and genuine, most amorous-deprived, desperate house wives would cancel botox treatments for a year just to feel real love. After 38 years of wedded bliss, Peata and Derrick are more smitten now than back in 1974; when movie goers were still mesmerized by Ryan O’Neal and Ali MacGraw in Love Story.
So when I happen to meet a bona fide cheat and Gigolo, I want to vomit. Let me tell you about “robbing the cradle” Randy - a divorced, high school mathematics teacher who lives in “The Shwa”. I met him online a few weeks ago. Listen to his opening lines….
“I am 60-years-old and I know you have heard this before, but I really do look a little younger due to a healthy lifestyle and good genes. I am quite fit, as I play competitive tennis,” he modestly brags.
Fast cars, sports and hairpieces rolled through my mind, as I read his initial email. Was Andy Randy mid-life crisis material and yet another statistic of geriatric divorce? You can’t stop the waves Randy, I thought, but you can learn to surf. Read on….
“I’m not really an online chat person, so I would prefer to talk on the phone and then meet in person,” he asked politely. “I hope that doesn’t sound too aggressive, as that is really not my nature. I am a people person and have a positive attitude towards life. Also I do have a good sense of humour,” claimed the confident and cheeky 54-year-old teacher.
So when Randy penned those lines, I just knew that I may be up against a cliché. You know – a nostalgic-kinda guy with the desire to live life to the fullest by splurging on the fire engine red Ferrari and spending way too much time in front of the mirror. Why waste my breathe I thought?
I had to seriously think whether or not I felt like meeting “late-in-life divorced Randy” for a shit-load of make-believe fantasy world reasons. On a superficial note, Randy just so happened to live in “The Shwa”. It’s a low-class and undesirable suburb of the GTA. I know because I once mistakenly lived there and I unflinchingly told him so. Here’s more of his email.
“Your attitude seems a little edgy,” he wrote,” but I like your upfront style. Being an optimist, I still feel that I am interested in you. You have my attention for sure. Let me know your thoughts,” he asked.
Call it shallow. But I’ve always loathed “The Shwa”. In my opinion, it smacks of honky tonk trailer trash. Remember? I once mistakenly lived there. So was Randy a prime example of low-grade garbage? I decided to find out. So I tossed the snobbish attitude and opened my horizons. “The Shwa” must have a silver recyclable lining somewhere, I thought.
“Thank you for being open and honest,” Randy responded, as I accepted his Sunday afternoon date to the Toronto Waterfront. “The Shwa” is not the jewel of Ontario,” he admitted. The 'Shwa' is what it is. But you cannot judge all people by where they live.”
Bless you Forrest Gump because dating really is like a box of mixed chocolates – you never know what you’re going to get! Truly fine chocolates are always fresh, less sweet, feature unusual textures and flavours and always contain high quality ingredients like premium cocoa beans and fresh, creamery butter.
Like truly-fine chocolate, a truly-fine gentleman’s greatest quality ingredient is honesty. A husband – former or otherwise - who is honest, respectful and most of all faithful is pure eye candy. Another high-quality ingredient of a truly-fine gentleman is loyalty. Remember those virtuous lines, “I will love, honour and be faithful?”
So was Dandy Randy Godiva chocolate or Bakers' Semi-sweet? I was about to find out.
I met the Queen’s University graduate in a public place of my choice, like I do with all my dates. The first thing I visually-observed about this semi-retired math teacher was his desire to remain youthful at all costs. Dressed to kill, his full head of hair was layered and dyed with streaks of Grecian Formula For Men – as well as his free-spirited moustache.
He was tall and athletic too. I hate to admit it, but he really did look a lot younger than his 60 years; although his profile stated he was 54. Lie #1. As I peppered him with question after question, I could sense an uneasiness.
“Ineda,” I have to admit something to you,” he revealed, as we continued our stroll. “What is it,” I asked curiously. “Well, when I was a math teacher, I had been tutoring a student and we fell in love.”
“How old was she?,” I asked. “Ummm…..errrr……26,” he coughed. “WHAT,” I said, with venom pouring out of my mouth. “I know….I know….Ineda,” he added, foolishly.
The student and the sugar daddy, I thought. For God’s sake, he was old enough to be her Poppy. Man, I despise Viagra card carrying Gigolo’s like that. How could you!, I thought. But then again, we all deserve a second chance to make it right....er...to get it up! God only knows I’ve made a few marital mistakes of my own.
As I chugged a glass of Stella at a waterfront bistro, Randy openly-confessed over his beer how he fell head-over-heals in lust with his wrinkle-free lover. After a few hot and steamy months, they decided to purchase a 3000 sq. ft. home and cohabit in sin. I wonder what the neighbours were thinking!
Whenever there’s an undeniable age gap between a love-sick teacher and his student, there is surely a mid-life crisis in our midst. Just ask any luxury sports car salesman. After 24 months of playing house, the sugar daddy academic and his sex kitten called it quits.
“It should have never happened, Ineda,” blushed Randy, who holds an Hons. B.Sc from prestigious Queen’s. That’s what you get when you think with the wrong head, I told him.
Randy admitted that this was the second time around he was faced with dividing financial assets and material possessions. Lucky she didn’t touch your teacher’s pension, I snickered. But some gigolos just never learn. While I consider myself to be a compassionate woman, I had a hard time accepting his intolerant infidelities because I loathe liars, cheaters and middle-aged gigolos!
The louse confessed his sleeping around with women other than his wife started in Year 6 of their 30-year marriage. So forget about that infamous 7-year itch. Randy was a year in advance - must have been the math!
In reality, most mid-life gigolos are calculating con artists who play on the emotions of gullible tarts in need of companionship, affection and sex. These guys are skilled at spotting anxieties and vulnerabilities and know how to use them to their advantage. The gigolo will play lonely, needy, young women like a fiddle. As a result, I could never fall into his lust-thirsty trap. I’m too wise!
Randy seemed charming and attentive. He listened and paid me a few compliments – one of the classic signs of having discovered with use which of his well-polished lines get the best response. I wondered if he was good in bed from plenty of practice no doubt - another characteristic of a skirt-chasing gigolo.
God only knows why Randy decided to pour out his heart and soul to me that sunny afternoon. Perhaps he was seeking redemption to justify his stupidity and cheating, gigolo ways. Who knows?
As our afternoon date came to a close, I’m sure he realized just as much as I did that there was absolutely no chemistry between us because I wasn’t needy nor deprived of mind-blowing sex. We ended the day with a hand shake and a promise that I would provide him with the name of my family law lawyer, as a result of my financially-lucrative divorce settlement.
Randy really was your typical “The Shwa” trailer trash with a degree. As for that number to my lawyer’s office – sorry sucker!
To life and living it,
Ineda
Peata and Derrick’s marriage is so authentic and genuine, most amorous-deprived, desperate house wives would cancel botox treatments for a year just to feel real love. After 38 years of wedded bliss, Peata and Derrick are more smitten now than back in 1974; when movie goers were still mesmerized by Ryan O’Neal and Ali MacGraw in Love Story.
So when I happen to meet a bona fide cheat and Gigolo, I want to vomit. Let me tell you about “robbing the cradle” Randy - a divorced, high school mathematics teacher who lives in “The Shwa”. I met him online a few weeks ago. Listen to his opening lines….
“I am 60-years-old and I know you have heard this before, but I really do look a little younger due to a healthy lifestyle and good genes. I am quite fit, as I play competitive tennis,” he modestly brags.
Fast cars, sports and hairpieces rolled through my mind, as I read his initial email. Was Andy Randy mid-life crisis material and yet another statistic of geriatric divorce? You can’t stop the waves Randy, I thought, but you can learn to surf. Read on….
“I’m not really an online chat person, so I would prefer to talk on the phone and then meet in person,” he asked politely. “I hope that doesn’t sound too aggressive, as that is really not my nature. I am a people person and have a positive attitude towards life. Also I do have a good sense of humour,” claimed the confident and cheeky 54-year-old teacher.
So when Randy penned those lines, I just knew that I may be up against a cliché. You know – a nostalgic-kinda guy with the desire to live life to the fullest by splurging on the fire engine red Ferrari and spending way too much time in front of the mirror. Why waste my breathe I thought?
I had to seriously think whether or not I felt like meeting “late-in-life divorced Randy” for a shit-load of make-believe fantasy world reasons. On a superficial note, Randy just so happened to live in “The Shwa”. It’s a low-class and undesirable suburb of the GTA. I know because I once mistakenly lived there and I unflinchingly told him so. Here’s more of his email.
“Your attitude seems a little edgy,” he wrote,” but I like your upfront style. Being an optimist, I still feel that I am interested in you. You have my attention for sure. Let me know your thoughts,” he asked.
Call it shallow. But I’ve always loathed “The Shwa”. In my opinion, it smacks of honky tonk trailer trash. Remember? I once mistakenly lived there. So was Randy a prime example of low-grade garbage? I decided to find out. So I tossed the snobbish attitude and opened my horizons. “The Shwa” must have a silver recyclable lining somewhere, I thought.
“Thank you for being open and honest,” Randy responded, as I accepted his Sunday afternoon date to the Toronto Waterfront. “The Shwa” is not the jewel of Ontario,” he admitted. The 'Shwa' is what it is. But you cannot judge all people by where they live.”
Bless you Forrest Gump because dating really is like a box of mixed chocolates – you never know what you’re going to get! Truly fine chocolates are always fresh, less sweet, feature unusual textures and flavours and always contain high quality ingredients like premium cocoa beans and fresh, creamery butter.
Like truly-fine chocolate, a truly-fine gentleman’s greatest quality ingredient is honesty. A husband – former or otherwise - who is honest, respectful and most of all faithful is pure eye candy. Another high-quality ingredient of a truly-fine gentleman is loyalty. Remember those virtuous lines, “I will love, honour and be faithful?”
So was Dandy Randy Godiva chocolate or Bakers' Semi-sweet? I was about to find out.
I met the Queen’s University graduate in a public place of my choice, like I do with all my dates. The first thing I visually-observed about this semi-retired math teacher was his desire to remain youthful at all costs. Dressed to kill, his full head of hair was layered and dyed with streaks of Grecian Formula For Men – as well as his free-spirited moustache.
He was tall and athletic too. I hate to admit it, but he really did look a lot younger than his 60 years; although his profile stated he was 54. Lie #1. As I peppered him with question after question, I could sense an uneasiness.
“Ineda,” I have to admit something to you,” he revealed, as we continued our stroll. “What is it,” I asked curiously. “Well, when I was a math teacher, I had been tutoring a student and we fell in love.”
“How old was she?,” I asked. “Ummm…..errrr……26,” he coughed. “WHAT,” I said, with venom pouring out of my mouth. “I know….I know….Ineda,” he added, foolishly.
The student and the sugar daddy, I thought. For God’s sake, he was old enough to be her Poppy. Man, I despise Viagra card carrying Gigolo’s like that. How could you!, I thought. But then again, we all deserve a second chance to make it right....er...to get it up! God only knows I’ve made a few marital mistakes of my own.
As I chugged a glass of Stella at a waterfront bistro, Randy openly-confessed over his beer how he fell head-over-heals in lust with his wrinkle-free lover. After a few hot and steamy months, they decided to purchase a 3000 sq. ft. home and cohabit in sin. I wonder what the neighbours were thinking!
Whenever there’s an undeniable age gap between a love-sick teacher and his student, there is surely a mid-life crisis in our midst. Just ask any luxury sports car salesman. After 24 months of playing house, the sugar daddy academic and his sex kitten called it quits.
“It should have never happened, Ineda,” blushed Randy, who holds an Hons. B.Sc from prestigious Queen’s. That’s what you get when you think with the wrong head, I told him.
Randy admitted that this was the second time around he was faced with dividing financial assets and material possessions. Lucky she didn’t touch your teacher’s pension, I snickered. But some gigolos just never learn. While I consider myself to be a compassionate woman, I had a hard time accepting his intolerant infidelities because I loathe liars, cheaters and middle-aged gigolos!
The louse confessed his sleeping around with women other than his wife started in Year 6 of their 30-year marriage. So forget about that infamous 7-year itch. Randy was a year in advance - must have been the math!
In reality, most mid-life gigolos are calculating con artists who play on the emotions of gullible tarts in need of companionship, affection and sex. These guys are skilled at spotting anxieties and vulnerabilities and know how to use them to their advantage. The gigolo will play lonely, needy, young women like a fiddle. As a result, I could never fall into his lust-thirsty trap. I’m too wise!
Randy seemed charming and attentive. He listened and paid me a few compliments – one of the classic signs of having discovered with use which of his well-polished lines get the best response. I wondered if he was good in bed from plenty of practice no doubt - another characteristic of a skirt-chasing gigolo.
God only knows why Randy decided to pour out his heart and soul to me that sunny afternoon. Perhaps he was seeking redemption to justify his stupidity and cheating, gigolo ways. Who knows?
As our afternoon date came to a close, I’m sure he realized just as much as I did that there was absolutely no chemistry between us because I wasn’t needy nor deprived of mind-blowing sex. We ended the day with a hand shake and a promise that I would provide him with the name of my family law lawyer, as a result of my financially-lucrative divorce settlement.
Randy really was your typical “The Shwa” trailer trash with a degree. As for that number to my lawyer’s office – sorry sucker!
To life and living it,
Ineda
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