How My Friend Pushed Me Into a Date with a Rich Older Man (and Why I’m So Thankful That She Did)

As I walked along the strip in Dutch St. Maarten with my friend Shyon, I saw him drive past in his black BMW X6. It was a beau­ti­ful car and I couldn’t help but notice him turn­ing around to get a good look at me. As the hot sum­mer sun pelted down on our skin, I secretly hoped he would stop and offer us a lift. Shyon and I looked at each other and smiled, my heart doing flips as I crushed on the good look­ing stranger. My eyes fol­lowed his jeep until it turned the corner.

Then, out of the cor­ner of my eye, I saw the black car return­ing and as he pulled up, he intro­duced him­self as Chad. “It’s a bit hot today for you two to be walk­ing. Where are you head­ing?” he asked with a smile.

I smiled back and replied, “We’re head­ing into town.”

Come on, I’ll take you,” he said, motion­ing for us to get in. I got into the front while Shyon jumped into the back. As we drove off, we told him our names as he pro­gressed to ask us what we were going into town for and how long we had been on the island. I told him that we were on vaca­tion, but that we were both from another nearby island.

As the con­ver­sa­tion went on, he turned and asked, “Do you ladies want to join me for lunch”? Before I could answer, Shyon jumped in and said, “No problem!”

My friend has a restau­rant up there at the marina where they have some really great food. That’s actu­ally where I was headed,” said Chad. We pulled up to the marina and it was absolutely beau­ti­ful, com­plete with lux­ury boats lin­ing the dock. I felt so privileged.

I had just been think­ing that my trip was a waste of time, hav­ing been there two months with no one who excited me, and that’s when Chad came along—talk about per­fect tim­ing. I liked his spontaneity.

I had told Chad that I was in town on vaca­tion, but really I packed up and left home so that I wouldn’t have to face my abu­sive boyfriend, Lex, again. If I played my cards right, Chad could be my ticket out of that hor­ri­ble relationship.

As Chad stepped out of the car, he stood tall at well over six feet. He was wear­ing skintight faded black jeans (I could see the bulge) and a white shirt with the two top but­tons undone, expos­ing a bit of his toned chest. At 19 years my senior, he was very sexy. He sent shock waves through me and I knew instantly that I wanted him. And I knew I was going to have him. He was so hand­some, with golden caramel skin, brown eyes, and dark curly hair.

We walked along the dock to the entrance of the restau­rant and were greeted by his friend. As we approached, the other gen­tle­man asked, “Where did you find these two angels? I hope you know he’s a bad boy and that I’m the good one.”

We all chuck­led as Chad intro­duced us to his friend, Peter. He led us to a table for four and asked, “What are you hav­ing to drink?”

I ordered a fruit punch, while Shyon and the other man had mer­lot. His friend was curi­ous about how we met and found it so funny that we just met along the strip. “Only you, Chad, only you,” he joked. It seemed Chad had a rep­u­ta­tion for being a bad boy, but I didn’t care. After all, I always liked sophis­ti­cated bad boys who could hold their own, and who were aggres­sive in bed—and Chad looked like he fit the bill perfectly.