How I Convinced My Wealthy, Older Man That I Wasn’t After His Money: Part 2

MoneyI had given my older, mar­ried boyfriend—the Stet­son man—a CD of Michael Bolton’s love songs, and he lis­tened to that CD every­where, includ­ing his hotel room in Canada. Upon the Stet­son man’s request, the hotel had sup­plied his room with a CD player, and so we lis­tened to Michael Bolton as we made love. I have not been able to fig­ure out exactly why this hap­pened, but sud­denly, in the mid­dle of love mak­ing, I jumped up, grabbed my clothes, and left the room. On the way out the door, I said over my shoul­der that I just couldn’t do this any longer. I told him we were over.

Also see: How I Con­vinced My Wealthy, Older Man That I Wasn’t After His Money: Part 1

After leav­ing half naked from the Stet­son man’s hotel room in Canada, I scram­bled to get the key in the door of my own room. My plane would be leav­ing in a few hours, and so I only had a short amount of time to throw my belong­ings into my suit­case. While I was rac­ing around my room col­lect­ing my things, my best friend called and told me that the Stet­son man had called her—in the early stages of my rela­tion­ship with the Stet­son man, she was a bit like our go-between. She could tell right away by the tone of my voice that I was seri­ous and in a lot of dis­tress; given the cir­cum­stances with my hus­band and the Stet­son man, she real­ized that my divorce was not far off in the future—it was immi­nent. She told me she would be right over, and within sec­onds she was at my door.

I let her in, and then con­tin­ued with my pack­ing. She told me that I would not find a bet­ter fit for my future, that he—the Stet­son man—was the answer to all my prayers. She said that I needed to relax into it, and just allow it to hap­pen. But the more she talked, the more I just wanted to run, far and fast. I felt like I had to get out of there. Before long, the Stet­son man knocked at my door, look­ing con­fused and hurt. He had no idea what had hap­pened to cause this reac­tion. One minute we were mak­ing love to Michael Bolton, and the next I was run­ning out the door. Sadly, I could not explain my behav­ior to him because I could not even explain it to myself.

I finally man­aged to pack up my lug­gage, and I headed down to the hotel lobby to check out. The Stet­son man came down with me and asked if he could accom­pany me to the air­port. I said that was fine—what were a few more min­utes? I imag­ined that after that car ride, I could end this affair once and for all. At that moment, all I could think about was the end…

Click here to read Part 3.