When you begin a journey to a new place you can’t help but look in the rear view mirror.
In 1990, nine months after my first marriage was annulled and four months after my son was born, I began a relationship with a younger man. I was twenty-six and he was twenty-one and believe me when I tell you, getting involved with someone – anyone – was the absolute furthest thing from my mind.
At that time I couldn’t imagine being in another relationship. After the heartbreak that I had suffered at the hands of the bigamist all I wanted to do was concentrate on my son. But after sitting in the house for over a year my older sister couldn’t take it anymore. She demanded that I come out with her and talk to someone other than my infant son. Reluctantly, I agreed and that was when I met J.
J was a big, strong, young Texan. The first time I saw him he had on a baseball cap and I couldn’t really see his face and I was far from impressed. In my eyes he was a big kid and I did not have time. The first club me and Sis went to was dry as hell so we left, went across the bridge and ended up someplace where there was a little more going on. J showed up again, this time without the cap. Big improvement. Still a big kid but very cute.
We danced a little and talked a little and by the end of the night I knew that I wanted to see him again. I was five years older than him and he thought he had hit the jackpot. I was fresh out of a marriage and was enjoying the ego boost. He was exactly what the doctor ordered.
At the time, J’s best friend was dating my sister on and off. The four of us would get together sometimes and we got along fairly well. After a few weeks my sister planned a get together at her house and invited “the boys” over. They brought an extra boy and we invited an extra woman. It was during the week and I had my son with me. I think it was a Monday night because I remember watching football. At some point during the evening I brought my sleeping baby into my sister’s bedroom and J received a signal from his boy to go with me. We sat and watched more football and at some point he decided to start kissing my fingers … that was not something I was used to and I didn’t know quite know how to respond. I mean, there was a houseful of people and my son was asleep right next to me. So, I decided it was time for me to go home.
I left the bedroom and called my sister into the kitchen where I told her that I had to get the baby home.
Sis: Why are you leaving?
Me: Your nephew is asleep and I’m tired.
Sis: What about J?
Me: What about him? He kissed my fingers!
Sis: For real?
Me: Yes for real.
Sis: Take him with you. I want to spend some time alone with Charles.
Me: What? I can’t take that boy home with me. How the hell is he going to get back to the (Navy) base?
Sis: Charles will swing by and pick him up on his way.
Me: That boy cannot spend the night at my house!
Sis: He won’t … Charles is going to be leaving soon. Pleeeeeeease! Take him with you!
My sister was a little desperate back in the day.
So, against my better judgment, I allowed the boy to accompany me back to my house. I bundled up my baby, got my coat and headed to the door. J, being the gentleman that he was decided to walk me to my car. When we got outside I told him to get in the car – he was coming with me.
J: What?
Me: Get in the car. You’re going to my house.
J: (dumbfounded … unaware of the arrangement I had made inside) How am I supposed to get home?
Me: Charles is going to pick you up.
J: Does he know that?
Me: Yes. Now get in the car.
We drove to my house in silence. He didn’t know what to expect. I knew exactly what to expect. It was Monday, I was tired and was not in the mood for any funny business. When we entered the house, I walked straight back to my son’s bedroom and took off his coat and shoes and lay him in the crib. He didn’t wake up once. He was such a good baby.
I rejoined J in the living room and I found him sitting in the middle of the sectional sofa looking all crazy. I sat down next to him and he started in with the kissing of the fingers again. This time I knew how to respond. J was an incredible kisser and his hands were so strong and … I don’t know. That was when my love for southern men and younger men began. Anyway, after a few more minutes of making out on the couch like a couple of teenagers there was a knock at the door. Thankfully, it was Charles – I wasn’t quite ready for this to happen.
So, the following weekend I’m at home with my son. I wasn’t doing anything so I decided to turn in early. I remember lying in the bed painting my nails when the phone rang. It was a little after ten o’clock, my baby was asleep and I wasn’t far behind him.
Me: Hello?
J: Hi. It’s J.
Me: Hi.
J: What are you doing?
Me: Nothing, why?
J: Mike was on his way to go see Donna and he wanted to know if he could bring me anywhere.
Me: Really?
J: Really. Do you feel like company?
Me: (Thinking that a visit after ten o’clock could only mean one thing) I could stand some company.
J: Good. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.
That was the beginning of my very first affair with a younger man. It lasted for about a year. We had a really good time together. He was twenty-one and was wide open. I was getting my confidence back and feeling stronger and more beautiful everyday that I was with him. It was not a core-shaking relationship. We didn't have great intellectual conversations or dine at fancy restaurants. We had a good time together. A really good time. Sadly, all good things must come to an end. He got stationed somewhere else and neither one of us could realistically do the long distance thing.
I think about him now and I still smile. I got married the second time about eighteen months after J and I broke up. He was convinced I got married so quickly because he wouldn’t marry me. What an ego! We've spoken several times over the years, usually on my birthday or Thanksgiving. I even saw him a few years ago when he was in town for a reunion with his Navy buddies. Obviously, it wasn’t the same. He’s still unmarried without children and he says that he has never met a woman who could meet the standard that I set 16 years ago.
J ... always the gentleman.
What is meant to be will be
