The Best Gift My Older Lover Ever Gave to Me

Sugar Daddy Jeremy Renner Hiding Secret

I have always admired the Stet­son man—my older, mar­ried lover—for the way he treated my son. My son did not have a true father fig­ure in his life until he met the Stet­son man. His bio­log­i­cal father viewed my son and me as a pack­age deal, and so when we divorced, he divorced the two of us. And then my sec­ond hus­band was only a friend to him at best. My son longed for a father fig­ure to be inter­ested in his life and future. He had just grad­u­ated high school with hon­ors and was mak­ing life­long deci­sions. This was a point in his life when a male role model would be very influ­en­tial. It had to be a good man with great val­ues; it had to be the Stet­son man. I knew that I wanted to intro­duce them, but it took me a while to get the nerve up.

When I finally decided the time had come, I asked the two of them to din­ner. I was ner­vous for a few rea­sons, one being that the Stet­son man was nearly my father’s age, and, of course, there was the pesky fact that he was mar­ried. I knew my son loved me dearly and would accept my deci­sion to be with the Stet­son man; how­ever, it was also my desire to have the Stet­son man as my son’s role model. There were mul­ti­ple gen­er­a­tions between them, and my son talked fast and often used the lat­est teenage slang. To make mat­ters worse, the Stet­son man did not hear well, and his ego would not allow him to wear a hear­ing aid. It wasn’t just impor­tant for my son to like the Stet­son man, I also wanted the Stet­son man to like my son. My son was a direct reflec­tion of my par­ent­ing skills, and I imag­ined that the Stet­son man would be think­ing the same thing. I fig­ured that if this din­ner didn’t go well, our rela­tion­ship would feel the neg­a­tive impact.

I chose a steak house for the meet­ing. The Stet­son man and I arrived before my son. The host­ess led us to a table tucked away at the very back of the restau­rant, and I chuck­led because I knew this would sup­ply com­men­tary for my son. Moments later, I looked up from my menu and watched my son stroll toward us, a wide grin on his face. He gave me a hug and shook the Stet­son man’s out­reached hand, and then he imme­di­ately com­mented about how our “covert” table was good for keep­ing the paparazzi at bay. My son and I laughed, and though I am not sure he was famil­iar with the term “paparazzi,” the Stet­son man laughed along with us. We all sat down and before long the two of them were dis­cussing sports and pol­i­tics. My son was fas­ci­nated with the older man’s suc­cess and spent the evening ask­ing business-related questions—I was so proud. The Stet­son man, hav­ing no prob­lems hear­ing, seemed hon­ored to receive my son’s atten­tion and obvi­ous admi­ra­tion, and he kept smil­ing at me after my son would ask another question.

I was quickly able to relax and enjoy the evening. I knew that they liked each other and I knew that like would soon grow to love. At din­ner that day, my son found an instant men­tor and sur­ro­gate father in the Stet­son man. It wasn’t long before my son would ask when he would get to see the Stet­son man again. They devel­oped a mutu­ally lov­ing rela­tion­ship, and every time I saw them inter­act, I fell deeper in love with the Stet­son man. My son was on the receiv­ing end of sev­eral mean­ing­ful gifts, and I trea­sure those gifts to this day. It was won­der­ful to see them mak­ing plans for the future and to know that my son was happy for me.