How I Used a Rich, Older Man to Help Me Get Over Being Dumped: Part 1

I first met Patrick when I was 31—he was 55—and I had never dated what most would call an “older man.” I moved to Chicago a few years before meet­ing him and had fallen in love with a pro­fes­sional foot­ball player who was actu­ally younger than I was. That romance burned to ashes as quickly as the flames leapt in the begin­ning. I did not cope well with him want­ing to break up. I lost 40 pounds and strug­gled to con­cen­trate on my career—I was work­ing as an entry-level exec­u­tive, but yield­ing over $100,000 a year. To deal with the stress, I took up run­ning and would often hit the pave­ment late at night and in the early hours of the morn­ing before walk­ing two miles to the office. I rarely ate, and when I did, I gagged. I even had to see a psy­chi­a­trist because I needed some­thing to help me sleep at night. Even then, my sleep wasn’t peaceful—I felt like I was too full of incon­solable grief.

That’s when the older man came into the pic­ture. I met Patrick in the win­ter at a din­ner party on the north side of town. After the breakup, I started hang­ing out with a high-roller crowd and dur­ing the sum­mer, we sailed together on Lake Michi­gan. Patrick was invited to the din­ner party because he owned a sailboat—although I would call it a yacht—but I had only ever sailed on my friends’ boats and our “cur­rents” had never crossed.

Patrick was ele­gant, sophis­ti­cated, charm­ing, and extremely wealthy. He was starstruck with me as soon as we met that night. I was wear­ing a red Sonia Rykiel out­fit and with my wil­lowy fig­ure, long black hair, and blue eyes, I was prob­a­bly at my peak in life in terms of sex appeal.

I decided to go out with Patrick a few times, mainly because, as I quickly found out, it felt so good to be with a man who treated me like a queen, couldn’t do enough for me, and wanted to spend every moment of every day with me. He owned a man­u­fac­tur­ing com­pany and ran it with his ex-wife and a cou­ple of his children.

I wasn’t even all that sur­prised when Patrick announced that our first real date would be in Hawaii, where he owned beach prop­erty, includ­ing the sur­round­ing beach. Own­ing beach­front land in Waikiki doesn’t come cheap, so I will admit that the money did get my atten­tion. Being in Hawaii wasn’t the only rea­son this would become one of the most unfor­get­table vaca­tions because, as I would soon find out, Patrick had a lot more in store for me…