How I Was Able to Snag My Rich Older Man with a Simple Look

It was early spring, when the flow­ers of love should be bloom­ing. My hus­band and I were pack­ing to leave for the Ken­tucky Derby, an annual affair for the two of us. I turned to him and said, “I am an affair wait­ing to hap­pen.” He never changed expres­sions, instead ask­ing me if I had dry-cleaned his lucky jacket.

I had been mar­ried to the love of my life for twelve years. As far as oth­ers could see, we had a great life. We owned pri­vate, for-profit edu­ca­tional insti­tu­tions. They afforded us a beau­ti­ful home, Mer­cedes and BMWs in the dri­ve­way, and yearly trips to the Ken­tucky Derby.

It wasn’t a bad life. How­ever, all sex­ual activ­ity between us ceased when I was diag­nosed with can­cer a few years ear­lier. I was no longer able to bear chil­dren at that point, mak­ing me very unde­sir­able to the love of my life. I tried every­thing to renew my desir­abil­ity to my hus­band, includ­ing breast aug­men­ta­tion, “Botox”—you name it, I did it. But noth­ing changed our dynamic; we were friends at best.

My hus­band was shar­ing in the respon­si­bil­i­ties of rais­ing my son from my pre­vi­ous mar­riage. How­ever, he really wanted his own bio­log­i­cal chil­dren. As a result of the can­cer, that wasn’t in the cards and he was pun­ish­ing me for it.

My son’s bio­log­i­cal father had res­cued me from my own fam­ily. My father had the abil­ity to pro­vide us with expen­sive things, includ­ing lux­ury cars, as he owned a very suc­cess­ful firm. When pros­per­ity turned to despair as a result of an expected down­turn in the mar­ket, I met my son’s father. Though he wasn’t a hand­some or sophis­ti­cated man, he was my sav­ior, tak­ing me from an immi­nent, unde­sir­able change in lifestyle.

Con­se­quently, six weeks later I agreed to marry him. He res­cued me, because he could afford me. He owned homes and small air­planes. Money was not an issue. I enjoyed that lifestyle for six years, until I allowed love to destroy it.

Unfor­tu­nately, I met and fell in love with a man that was far from rich, but who became my sec­ond hus­band any­way. I did it back­wards; I mar­ried first for money, and the sec­ond time for love. I had even dis­ap­pointed my mother.

Need­less to say, I didn’t get much out of my first mar­riage in the way of money. I mar­ried my sec­ond hus­band in spite of his unem­ployed sta­tus. But we both worked hard, and even­tu­ally it paid off, becom­ing very lucra­tive as a result. How­ever, my son was about to grad­u­ate high school, and I knew my hus­band would file for divorce upon that grad­u­a­tion. I was a very short time from los­ing the lifestyle I loved and had grown accus­tomed to.

How was I to face what was ahead of me? I laid awake at night, tor­mented, know­ing that I couldn’t make the amount of money I needed to sus­tain my lifestyle. I couldn’t do it on my own. Dur­ing those nights, I would dream of a man with a pri­vate jet res­cu­ing me. Although I had mar­ried the love of my life, the sit­u­a­tion trans­formed him into a self­ish, cheat­ing mon­ster and me into a des­per­ate, needy victim.

I would not give into poverty and become a pau­per, while he drove his sports cars. I was a loyal wife for years before I decided I needed more. The stress of the sit­u­a­tion had caused me to have quiet affairs with sev­eral men, includ­ing a world-class sports star and the owner of a very lucra­tive cor­po­ra­tion rooted in the deep South, meet­ing all of them at black­jack tables. My sec­ond hus­band was a die-hard gam­bler, and in my efforts to make our mar­riage work, I even learned to play black­jack. How­ever, these affairs didn’t go any­where. They afforded me some nice gifts and good times, but they weren’t my future.

I knew the Derby was a target-rich envi­ron­ment for a woman seek­ing afflu­ent men. I just didn’t know how well off they could be. The Ken­tucky Derby pro­vides two days of rac­ing. After the first day of rac­ing, I met up with my best friend, who had agreed to meet me at the casino where we were stay­ing. She was privy to all my secrets, and knew I was look­ing for my next “life,” so to speak. We had spent many evenings can­vass­ing black­jack tables, search­ing for rich, excit­ing men who would feed our egos and allow us to hold court and per­haps res­cue me.

The evening of the Oaks race was no dif­fer­ent. We can­vassed the casino, table-to-table until finally we were dis­ap­point­edly only left with the desire to play black­jack. It seemed there were only local red­necks every­where we looked. Until sud­denly, I noticed an older man, not all that great look­ing, but well dressed, wear­ing a pres­i­den­tial “Rolex” on his left wrist. The blue sapphire-and-diamond ring could blind the aver­age per­son. He wore a beaver Stet­son hat and was star­ing intently, all while smil­ing at me as I sat cross-legged, swing­ing my leg invit­ingly. I sat with a half-ass smirk on my face, as if to say, “So you know you want some of this, don’t you?”

Truth­fully, my first thought was he was some small Ken­tucky landowner who thought he was much more than I did. But I was just in enough of a mood to play along. I tossed across to my friend that he was watch­ing me, half think­ing she would con­firm my assess­ment with one of her typ­i­cal responses in the usual way she makes fun of men. Instead she sur­prised me with, “Don’t be fool­ish, he could be the one, fol­low me.” I stated the obvi­ous: the table was full. How­ever, before I knew it, I was fol­low­ing behind her and walk­ing directly toward his table. And by the time we got there, in the very pow­er­ful, yet under­stated man­ner that only large amounts of money can buy, he had cleared the table for me.

As we approached, I caught his eye. He was bet­ter look­ing up close, but not some­one I would glance at twice with­out the pres­i­den­tial Rolex, beaver Stet­son, and cash­mere jacket. And yet, I allowed myself to be reeled into the seat next to him. Since he had cleared the table, only the man in the Stet­son, myself, my girl­friend, and his per­sonal attor­ney were now play­ing black­jack at the “Ken­tucky landown­ers table.”

He very quickly told me that “I was hot­ter than donut grease.” I must say, I hadn’t heard this line before. But I found myself enjoy­ing the atten­tion I so des­per­ately sought after at home. So, just who was this diamond-dripping, cocky cow­boy that was mak­ing the scene all about me? I flirted with him, asked ques­tions, and laughed my sex­i­est laugh, even when he wasn’t all that funny. Just who was he exactly? Was he worth my time? How much was he worth really? How much could he truly mean to me?

He was def­i­nitely into me. If he had enough zeroes on his finan­cial state­ment, I might actu­ally be able to get into him, Stet­son hat and all. As the evening wore on, I con­tin­ued to flirt, just in case he was worth it, as my friend did my research. I could hear the attor­ney telling her about the cowboy’s pri­vate jet, the race horses they were about to pur­chase, the miles of white fenc­ing that sur­rounded the ranches he owned, the draft horses he loved, and much, much more. The peo­ple that were run off the table hung around to become spec­ta­tors to the unimag­in­able amounts of money the cow­boy was gam­bling. Just who was he, and how much was he really worth?

All I had was a first name, a very com­mon first name at that. As I reached into my bag for more chips, the man in the Stet­son handed me a few black chips. I tossed them back his way and informed him, “I have more money than God,” as it was too early to con­sider tak­ing his money. How­ever, if he proved to have deep pock­ets, this strat­egy would be beneficial.

He was taken back, but loved my spunk, I could tell. His per­sonal power was intox­i­cat­ing, and it was all focused on me. As the wee hours of the morn­ing approached way too quickly, rest was on the agenda. It was time to make our exit. As I rose to leave, he handed me his busi­ness card, which I tucked safely into my bag. He half attempted to kiss me, but I pulled away, as my hus­band was some­where in the casino.

We strut­ted off laugh­ing, think­ing those two were full of it. But I had enjoyed his atten­tion and charm. And he seemed to really like me. And truth­fully, I was a bit sad to see the evening close. But once out of his eye­sight, we raced to my friend’s hotel room. We had his infor­ma­tion. My friend imme­di­ately pulled out her lap­top, and we began our research.

Upon her ini­tial Google search, she excit­edly said, “Look at these barns; his cows live bet­ter than I do!” The attor­ney was telling the truth. Not only did the man in the Stet­son pos­sess all of which my friend was told, but he was one of the rich­est pri­vately held mon­ey­men in the United States. He had a great finan­cial state­ment, and he held many posi­tions of sta­tus. Ken­tucky landowner? Heck no! How about one of the top-15 landown­ers in the country.

I grabbed his busi­ness card, as I dug in my bag for my cell phone. No answer, but the stan­dard voice­mail allowed me to leave a mes­sage. I left one of the sex­i­est call-me-back mes­sages I could at that point. I later found out he and his attor­ney were lost on the way back to their hotel. But most impor­tantly, he had my num­ber. I would wait to see if he acted upon it. I wished I had flirted even more and done some­thing to be sure he returned my call.

The fol­low­ing day, I was in the Mil­lion­aires Club at the Ken­tucky Derby, pac­ing, won­der­ing and think­ing about the man in the Stet­son cow­boy hat. I had never met a man of those finan­cial means. Had I done enough for him to think of me today? Had I flirted enough? Had I made it enough about him? Or was I too cocky in think­ing he was only a “Ken­tucky landowner” with not enough zeroes for me?

I was a ner­vous wreck. I kept look­ing at his busi­ness card, when sud­denly my cell phone rang; it was the man in the Stet­son hat. I couldn’t believe he actu­ally called me! Me, the lit­tle girl from Kansas with­out an education…he was call­ing me! He was in the Own­ers Box and wanted to see me! I couldn’t believe it! My hus­band had secured our tick­ets from the Foxbor­ough Casino, and they were cov­eted tick­ets. The Stet­son man couldn’t get to my seats, but I could get to his! Talk about the luck of the draw!

I imme­di­ately agreed to see him. I was a ner­vous wreck. Last night’s drink­ing and stay­ing up late, I felt, had taken a toll. I ran to the ladies’ room and fixed as much as I could. I had on a tight, pink-sequined top, black pants, pink heels, and a dar­ling hat. I added light-pink lip gloss. It was as much as I could muster at this point.

I walked to the esca­la­tor, won­der­ing what he and I would think of each other today. As I descended upon the esca­la­tor, I imme­di­ately spot­ted him; sud­denly, he was the best-looking man I had ever laid eyes on. He was wait­ing for me, with another cash­mere jacket, more dia­monds, the Stet­son hat, and a great smile. I knew what that smile could do for me.

We talked, we flirted, and he asked if he could see me again. Of course, I agreed. We briefly kissed a very sweet kiss. And he was off to his pri­vate jet for his trip home. I found out later his attor­ney was excited he had found a way to con­vince his cow­boy boss/client to pur­chase thor­ough­bred race horses…thinking I was into race horses. The cow­boy had agreed to ven­ture into the rac­ing busi­ness as a way to see me. You see, he was mar­ried. After our exchange, I slowly made my way back to my seat in the Mil­lion­aires Club, know­ing my life was about to change for­ever! I just didn’t know how much.

  • Kronk

    Can you say ‘Gold-Digger’?
    I can–