Why I Know There’s Nothing My Older Man Won’t Do For Me: Part 1

160577272 (1)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…