Older men

Loving Day is over, but it's still a good excuse for a lotta luvin. Hopefully, by now, the oysters and the scallops will have been washed clean away by the champagne (and not sparkling wine). And now it's about time the patient men are rewarded, and I hope they are. It's funny how we talk of men being rewarded, while girls also have a need for the reward. Perhaps it goes back to what the nuns of St. Joseph Blata l-Bajda used to tell us. They always gave us the feeling that it was men who wanted the wicked ways, never us. And perhaps since we were profound Catholic girls we gave it to them out of kindness. And we discovered that two can play at the game, since two were playing anyway. We suddenly realised we also liked men's wicked ways and that didn't make us men. And we also realised that since the nuns were married to God, well God would be the best lover in the world wouldn't He? But that still didn't make us want to become nuns, not even with God as the potential husband. I think the more forbidden they made the fruit, the sweeter it sounded, even with inexperienced boys who groped their way around as if they were blind and had not yet learnt how to handle their stick properly. And then we gave the boys a miss (at least I did) and turned to older men. We being young and pretty rubbed their ego sky high, and at 40 and 50 they could have been blind in some areas but had learnt how to handle their stick like pros. The joys of older men... big sigh. Something which appalled my mother and which I think hurt my dad. But I was never trying to replace my father figure. I just loved (and still do) older men, for a reason which I like to think I don't know. And for a reason which truthfully is because they make us their one top priority, seeing we're so young, and also seeing they're scared stiff we'll run away... which we still do anyway. We just progress onto the next older guy. But then I've had one older guy, a doctor by profession, behave like a 15 year old boy. Yours truly thought it would be the best thing ever, an older man, and a doctor. He'd know his way around. Wrong, he didn't and I got upset in a very bad way and started bitching. The poor man started following me around like a puppy and I gave him hell. The next thing I knew he was on the Times of Malta Obituary and boy did I feel bad. I didn't kill him, it was lung cancer, but I still felt bad. A date who died. Terrible. And yet another older man, married by profession, who decided to leave his matrimonial house when I never even asked him to. And once he was 'free' I didn't like him anymore. I remember haughtily (Oh God have I sinned) informing him that it was over on a New Year's Eve. And I felt nothing, no tears, no anything, just nothing. There was one older man who also left the matrimonial home, got a marriage annulment, loved me to bits, a man whom I loved to bits... and let's just say that sadly he's not here anymore. And then there is the Mister, whom I thought was old, only to find out he was old, just one year older. It started just as another older man escapade. I really swear I thought he was at least 40 at the time. And since I was 29, he wasn't a lot older, but then sometimes a girl has got to do with what's on offer. I wanted excitement, fun, and I got all of that. Plus the L-word. Suddenly it was love and there was nothing I could do. And suddenly he wasn't 40 but 30, just a year older. And it stuck. And it's nice. And I am thankful it happened. Because love really could be just around the corner, and it happens when you're not even looking for it. It happened to me.