Wall of text alert. This occurred between September 2016 to January 2017. Feel free to skip it, but there are some lessons to be learned within.
This woman was very close to my age at 60 years of age. She was about 5ft 2 inches and weighed 120 lbs. She had a nice body, especially those slightly enhanced t~~~. She could pass as 40, but it takes an hour of makeup for her to do so.
First warning: Transference.
I had dated her via dating site a year previously. After several dates, I got a Dear John text, telling me she was going back to her previous relationship. This was the morning after I spent the night at her house. During a shared bottle of wine and much protesting about how glad she was not being in her previous relationship, she said that she suspected me of missing my previous relationship. No pussy at this point, but lots of titty play.
Fast forward 9 months and I get a mundane email from her. We talk via phone over the next three months. She wonders why I never tried to contact her. Duh! Her relations~~~ fell apart, so now she’s on the prowl. I now live 700 miles away, rather than 100. My thoughts on her: She’s the one I never got to f~~~. I wondered what it would be like.
Her strategies: Love bombing, constantly saying that we are so much alike, blah, blah, blah. Starts sending sexy pictures, but nothing naked. You know the pursed lips while laying in bed, top of the nightgown showing. I send nothing but a smile.
She sends a facebook friend request. She sees that I’ve got a two seat ocean going kayak with a sail, that I’m out having fun and appear to be doing what I want. In the midst of all these conversations, a question slips in: “You do have money set aside for retirement don’t you? Of course I do and I’m debt free, own my car and have no mortgage. There is inane talk of what she is looking for in a relationship. She shares her f~~~ed up relationships with her parents, her brother, his wife and her son, 35, that she has not spoken to in a couple of years. More Warning Signs.
Eventually, she says that she needs to be rescued….blah, blah, blah. She invites me to come to her home for a week. I’m retired, so I drive up there. Her dad has dementia and has set his house on fire. He needs to be in hospice. I’m thinking, hell I can help with that, I just ended a 10 year stint as a hospice nurse. We eventually get him into a dementia care unit and get him signed up for hospice.
My birthday is in two days. She says she has something very special planned. We hit it off pretty well. Birthday night rolls around and she excuses herself to go get changed. She comes down in a cute little pink fishnet outfit. Those nice nipples are looking pretty good at this point. She then hands me a DVD….yep porn. She looks demure and asks if I think badly of her, as she thought she would give me a blowjob while we watch porn. I’m thinking no, it’s exactly what I expected. The sex is pretty good. We go sex toy shopping together and I’m thinking; “This ain’t so bad. Where has she been all of my life?”
One week turns into one month. I’m a great cook. I buy all the groceries and do the cooking. I help with cleaning while she’s working. Her mother is staying in the home temporarily as her home has all but been destroyed by the fire and was under repair. Mother leaves a couple of times a week and gives us privacy, but the tension is high between them. I got laid plenty of times, pretty good BJ’s so I’m still ahead of the curve. I don’t mind the cooking and helping with the housework. My parents owned an Italian restaurant when I was growing up and I live alone and do it all the time. I go back home, we talk on the phone and she begins to introduce the relations~~~ talk into our conversations. After 3 weeks she tells me that she cannot wait for Christmas to see me, can I come back in the middle of November and stay through Christmas. I agree to do so and the mask begins to fall off.
She asks about me moving to her state and living with her. I told her we could work something out, but I love my home and don’t want to sell it. She has this grand strategy of selling her home so that we could buy “our” home, splitting it 50/50. I’m thinking, hell no. I want no debt and I’m going to use retirement money to put myself into a trap.
Whenever we sit talking and she gets half a bottle of wine in her, she talks about all the men that she had relationships with. No details of course, but always says; “All the men that have been with me, love me and would be there for me If I called them today. They screwed up and they’re sorry that they did. There is no one like me.” She sprinkles the statements; I don’t need a man to be happy. I was a single mom and I’ve always had to fend for myself. I’m a strong girl. I don’t need a man to support me. I’m a survivor, on and on ad nauseum. When I start hearing this sales pitch, I’m know I’m not going to be able to hold my breath for long. It’s just a matter of when, not if.
Over the next month, the s~~~ tests begin.
“So while I’m working and you’re sitting around, did you accomplish anything today?” (Yeah, I bought groceries, poured your wine, listened to your bulls~~~ and cooked dinner.)
“We need to eat more healthy or order out, I’ve gained weight since you came.” (Yeah, it’s my f~~~ing fault. Push away from the table and step away from the wine bottle.)
“I know you get into cooking, but you have to respect my kitchen. Come here and look at the crumbs that you missed.”
“ So while I was working, were you on facebook all day talking to other women?”
What do you do with all of your free time while I’m working? You know, some of us have to work!”
“All men are cheaters.”
“You have to realize how special you are. I don’t let men stay in my home. You’ve been given a special privilege.”
“One of my girlfriends told me that you sent her a friend request and that you’ve been hitting on her.” (Bulls~~~, I know your girlfriend is crazy and to me looks like a horse.)
It seems like your are ignoring me. I work all day and yes you poured me a glass of whine, but it seems that you don’t want to talk with me. I’ve been thinking of you all day and it made me wet, but now I’ve lost the feeling.” (lol! Yep….I’ve lost that lovin’ feeling too)
One night we are drinking wine, laying on the floor listening to music. She’s pretty buzzed and is looking forward to sex. She smells me and asks; “You smell wonderful. What deodorant do you have on?” I told her that I use Secret. It works, no breakthrough and no under arm irritation. “That’s womens deodorant! Are you gay?” By now I’m reaching my limit and realize that the irritation she causes me is not worth the pussy and BJ’s. I called her out on it and told her if I had not had any wine, I would pack my s~~~ and head home. She asked if I wanted to come to bed and I declined. She apologized the next day, saying that she guessed she had too much to drink. I asked her why the f~~~ she was behaving that way and she tells me she has had a habit of trying to push men away and not get close to them. (Ding! She has achieved success.)
More s~~~ tests over the next week and some bitchiness while shopping for Christmas decorations. All of this cinched it for me. I mentioned heading back home after Christmas, that I really needed a break. She turned on the tears and begged me not to go. She even threatened that if I walked out on her, that would be the end. I struggled with this but I needed to get the f~~~ out. I was able to get consolation from a buddy via phone when she was working, but I was stressing out just being there.
She tried various combinations of seduction and crying over the next two weeks. She has an insomnia problem and it would pretty regularly f~~~ up the next day or two. She gave me two gift cards to a steakhouse. I took her there, but she had a panic attack on the way and I had to turn around. I know for sure that I would be b~~~~ deep in crazy if I stayed in this. I’ve already made up my mind and she’s beginning to panic. I leave on January 2nd and get back home.
Conversations are short and shallow. She tries more s~~~ testing and I don’t respond. I finally give her permission to date others if she isn’t happy.
The last day we talk and I tell her I would prefer to be friends. Her response; “ I knew this was coming. When you tell someone they can date around, you don’t care about them. By the way, when I was crying, it was not just because you were leaving, it was for me too. I needed you to leave. Well you got what you want. I’m getting off the phone.”
I made no further attempts to contact her and three days later, she did the facebook block. When I pulled out of her driveway, I had never felt so relieved. And that….is the happy ending to this stories. This one confirmed that the Red Pill was the right way to go. Six months and counting.
CombatRoll 2 years, 7 months ago.
