I Don’t Know What Women Want
Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Third Degree of Freedom .
I think I said something about appreciating a man’s honestly. I take that back. Sometimes, I really don’t.
After Vicki forwards me an email from an Italian 20-something auditioning as a gigolo, all I can say is that some days, single men are better than they are on other days. At least his email was entertaining. Up until I realized he was dead serious.
He plainly says he’s looking for a sugar-mama situation, preferably a woman over 45 who lives in a palace by the sea where he can live in luxury, spend his days swimming in the pool or the ocean, and his nights servicing his benefactor. He’s smoother than most 20-somethings, but I know enough women in their 30’s who date the young pups and are constantly buying them toys, to the point of dipping into their savings to keep these moochers around. Oh, please. The sex can’t possibly be that good. For Pete’s sakes, most of them are in their early 20’s and still need a compass to find their way around a woman’s body! And if one particular 39-year-old colleague of mine raves one more time about the “soft baby skin” on a 21-year-old man, I swear I’ll puke.
I have to wonder why this Italian Romeo sent his resume to Vicki and what her husband would have to say about that! He must have seen that “Bombshell” photo I took of her in the leather coat and heels for her website. Or better yet, why exactly did she forward his email to me?
But the email arrives a day after my conversation with a man in his late 50’s who’s bent on pursuing me, much to my chagrin. How did I become the poster girl for Baby Boomers in search of wives? A doctor, too. Argh! What’s up with that? Three physicians over 50 who wouldn’t take no for an answer? In less than a year? I must change my stereotype. Surely there are plenty of other single women who’d love to get their hands in any doctor’s pockets.
Honestly, I’m sick to death of these men in their 50’s and their disingenuous comments about how much we have in common when they know absolutely nothing about me and have heard only a smidgen from whatever mutual acquaintance decided to introduce us without telling me. The fact that I live in the same town does not give us anything in common. This, this from men who don’t know my religious beliefs or what music I like or that I’m contemplating a Celtic tattoo. I’m more than my business suit…in fact, the business suit is hardly me at all.
Oh, but now I’ve met an honest suitor. Another one I can’t tell to get lost fast enough. Yeah. I wasn’t interested before his policy of truth and I’m not interested now. I’m still flabbergasted by his explanation.
“I am 58 years old,” he told me, “and I’m looking for a wife, not a girlfriend or a lover. My kids are grown and live on the other side of the country and I was too busy with my medical practice while they were growing up to spend any time with them so now they don’t particularly care to spend time with me. I’m starting to have little health problems and I’m going to have to retire in the next few years. I need someone who’ll take care of me and is young enough not to have health problems of her own.”
Yeah, well, good luck with that, Doc.
I tell Vicki I’ve decided that I know what men want. At least, the men I’ve dated and the men I’ve run like hell from. The 20-somethings want a sugar mama. The 50-somethings want a nurse maid. The 40-somethings want a 19-yr-old girl to make them feel like they’re 19 again and they’re too busy focusing on the past. The 30-somethings are focused on the future—start a family, build a career, and little appreciation for how fast time moves or how regrettable it is later when it’s wasted.
“Hmm,” Vicki says. “None of those sound very appealing. So what do women want?”
Hell, if I know. I have enough trouble finding what I want.