I have a Daddy complex.
As a result my last boyfriend was 50.
He didn’t look 50, more like 40 and he was insanely hot for his age, I would have never even thought to have said “for his age” if he had not made such an issue out of it, it didn’t bother me at all.
He was charming, well groomed, well spoken, classy and definitely knew how to treat a lady. I would have married him in 10 minutes. He was exactly what I always wanted, it also helped he was insanely tall and dark haired with just the right amount of 5 o’clock shadow. He could cook, he could made a damm good coffee (with his professional machine), he was tidy and he had a thing for interior design. He also had the hottest navy blue vintage Mercedes ever and bought home a salary that not even I could spend in a month.
Looking at this list I think, honestly, I should give him another chance, where did I put his number?
I should have known that something had to give.
We were making out on the designer couch after polishing off a nicely chilled bottle of champagne, after an exquisite meal cooked by him. My VJJ already belonged to this god as far as I was concerned – I mean – damn girl!
Things progressed as they should have, he could kiss (yay!), so the potential was there. Since he is 207 cm tall, my expectations were limited to “proportion” only, I mean surely that is to be expected and not asking much.
Jesus, was I wrong…
I went to work with the intensity of the latest Dyson model – in a solid attempt at correcting certain issues which arose…or rather did not arise. Fruitless.
Then I decided to simply ask, maybe there was something he liked that I was not doing.
NOPE – Apparently, I was perfection.
One word comes to mind here, lackluster.
Although after the age of 30, more than one shitty complicated separation/divorce/breakdown, maybe lackluster was enough?
Let’s be honest – everything else was perfect.
Ultimately, what broke it however was how he just accepted his lack of the hard and stiff as normal.
I mean I am no whore, I would go as far as deeming myself low/(medium) grade “whoreish” during my 20’s but nothing out of the ordinary – so I was either incredibly lucky with my cross section of specimens or this was not normal.
Let me tell you, it was not, not not not.
I decided, I was too old and tired to try to have any more of “the talks” – so I left him a nice note.
YUP a note and thanked him for being awesome! : )
Moral of the story, if you don’t have anything nice to say, LIE. Oh and shit gets soft after 50 – be warned.