The First Time I Met My Rich Older Man, I Knew Exactly What I Wanted

I had just met the most incred­i­ble man at the Ken­tucky Derby and I could not stop smil­ing, even though I pro­vided inac­cu­rate direc­tions to the air­port, caus­ing my hus­band and I to nearly miss our flight home. I tried to hide my smile as he chas­tised me for not pay­ing atten­tion. At that point, my hus­band could not hurt my feel­ings or anger me. I was ecsta­tic. I could only think of the man in the Stet­son hat, the man with the pri­vate jet. The same man I met at the black­jack table and again at the Derby.

As I sat in my first-class seat on our return trip home, I was filled with antic­i­pa­tion. I sat think­ing this seat may soon be too mod­est for me. Fly­ing on his pri­vate jet could be a pos­si­bil­ity in the future. But first, the man in the Stet­son hat must reach out to me. I won­dered if indeed he would call. If so, how soon would he call? What would hap­pen? Would he ask to see me? Where would the meet­ing take place? There was so much to think about.

The poten­tial oppor­tu­ni­ties this man could pro­vide me were over­whelm­ing. What I knew for sure was that the man in the Stet­son had my phone num­ber and my e-mail address. He had the means to con­tact me. How­ever, I was very aware that he was, in fact, mar­ried and had made those mar­riage vows before I was even born. Was he seri­ous about get­ting to know me?

I arrived home late on Sun­day evening with no con­tact from him. Early Mon­day, my nerves set in. I stayed home from work. I Googled him and read the pages and pages of infor­ma­tion the Inter­net fur­nished. I aim­lessly waded through my morn­ing, remem­ber­ing our time at the black­jack table. I con­tin­u­ously refreshed my e-mail and hov­ered over my cell phone. I called my best friend mul­ti­ple times. We ana­lyzed the week­end from every angle. Her state­ment to me was, “I can’t pray any­one any big­ger than he walks into your life.” We agreed he was the biggest so-called catch in the sea. He just had to call.

How­ever, the man in the Stet­son wasn’t reach­ing out. By that after­noon, rejec­tion was set­ting in. I needed to get out of the house. I ran a few errands and found myself in the gro­cery store. As I was try­ing to remem­ber the items I needed to pre­pare din­ner, the phone rang. I answered it to hear, “He sent you an e-mail!” It was my best friend. I had shared my pass­word with her before leav­ing and asked her to check my e-mail while I was out.

I ditched the half-full gro­cery cart and nearly ran out of the gro­cery store. She had not read the e-mail, but it had arrived and was await­ing me. The few blocks from the gro­cery store to my home seemed like the longest miles of my life. I was so excited, I was nearly sick to my stom­ach. I slammed the car in park and ran into my house.

I quickly pulled up my e-mail. There it was: an e-mail from the man in the Stet­son hat. I slowly read the words. I reread them sev­eral times to be sure I knew exactly what it said. He wanted to see me! He would have his attor­ney call my friend to make the travel arrange­ments, since I, too, was mar­ried. I imme­di­ately called her, and we read the e-mail repeat­edly. We spent the after­noon on the phone, plan­ning our next step, plan­ning the first rendezvous.