Older men treat younger women like royalty, and that treatment goes beyond the financial aspect of the relationship. My older boyfriend, who I call the Stetson man, truly wishes me to be happy and content, and he will go above and beyond to make this happen, unlike most men my own age.
When I divorced, I left my Chihuahua puppy with my ex-husband until I had settled into my home. This puppy meant the world to me. I had purchased him soon after my dad passed away, and he was born in the same state as my dad. I actually ended up naming the dog my dad’s nickname, Frankie. And we were reunited six months into the divorce; Frankie was back in my care.
I had briefly mentioned to the Stetson man that Frankie was coming home. He had made a comment about no dogs in the bed at night, but had left it at that. He seemed fine with the prospect of a dog being part of the mix. I knew he had not been around small dogs and so he probably did not really know what to expect with me and Frankie.
I had only been reunited with my dog for a few days when the Stetson man arrived at my home for a visit. I like to keep Frankie well dressed, but my friends had advised me to leave the clothing off of Frankie in front of the Stetson man. However, I decided against their advice, and I put Frankie in his finest outfit for the introductions. The Stetson man didn’t seem bothered by the fact that I dress my dog, and we even took a stroll around the neighborhood: Frankie in his clothing and boots, and the Stetson man wearing his Stetson, holding the leash. Later on, when I relayed this scene to my friends, they all found it humorous to imagine this very well-off, distinguished man strolling around the neighborhood with a clothed Chihuahua puppy. But that walk was just the beginning of the introductions—Frankie very much slept in our bed that night, under the covers at my feet. I had not said anything about Frankie’s preferred sleeping location, but when we retired that night, Frankie did, too. Frankie was back to being a major part of my everyday life, and so, of course, when I moved to the Stetson man’s state, Frankie moved, too.
Frankie and I had been living in our new home for a few weeks when a friend came for a visit. The Stetson man, my friend, and I decided to spend the afternoon out of the house, and the Stetson man left the back door slightly open for Frankie to go in and out of the house as he wished. I was worried about this, but I allowed it. A few hours later, we arrived home to an empty house. We searched the house and yard for Frankie, and in the yard we discovered a place under the fence where he had slid out…