How do you explain that toy-boy to your daughter?

By Bunmi Sofola

When I met Greg at a workshop recently and realized he was only 29, I lied I was in my 30s when the fact is, I was over 10 years older,” confessed Theresa as she gloated over her latest conquest. “My friends urged me to go for it—to enjoy it while it lasted. And why not? He was still single, very goo-looking and thrilled with the idea of bedding a ‘sugar mummy’. I asked him if he’d slept with older women before and he clamped up.

love
love

No skin off my nose really. I was a single mother of three and all I wanted was a good shag. Mentally, I counted foreign female celebrities who were with much younger men—Joan Collins, Demi Moore, Sabara Windsor… then I got stuck. “Close to home, I could reel off names of older women spending their money on toy boys and looking better than if they’d gone for, a face lift.

“On my first visit to Greg’s place, it was obvious he was an old hand. I told him I would arrive in a cab to be on the safe side and he was already hanging out of the window, watching for me. He opened the door in a pair of shorts and nothing else. We were both wound up on the thought of the sex to come.

“He’d just had a shower and as he kissed me hello, things just took their natural course. We began to kiss hungrily as I excitedly noticed the taunt muscles of his flat stomach. We staggered to his bedroom with its unmade bed and he didn’t even bother to straighten it. He just sat down and pulled me towards him. After we’d finished having the most mind-blowing sex I’d had in years, we lay talking. I was curious about his life. What sort of friends did he have? (They’re a bunch of rascals,’ he laughed, ‘all wine and women.’ I asked when I’d get to meet them and he smiled. ‘Soon,’ he said.

“ As I left, he asked to see me again. Which was good for me; it would have dented my ego if I’d been the one to ask for a next date. How I wished my friends could have seen how keen he was. I was sure of his feelings for me now, and could see he really liked me.

 “The next few weeks, Greg and I met several times. He would order some food, fill his fridge with wine, then we’d make love, chat, make love… it was a heady sensation. Days later, I grumbled we shouldn’t be stuck indoors all the time having sex. I wished he’d take me somewhere like his club or for a meal. He just grinned and told me: ‘I like bed, especially when you’re in it with me.’ What better pick-me up could I want with a comment like that?

“In the end I invited him to my place. My 19-year-old daughter goes to the university from home and I was apprehensive when I found her at home instead of attending lectures as I’d hoped. I shrugged. I was hoping we would make love in my bedroom for a change.

Well, some other time! Greg arrived with a bottle of wine and as I left to check on the cooking, I heard him chatting with my daughter. I quickly  served the meal on individual trays. Greg and Nancy were slouched on the sofa in front of the telly, laughing hysterically and doing battle in a Nintendo fighting game. ‘Oh you’re wicked”  Greg shouted at Nancy.

‘Nice shot, girl! Aw, you’ve killed me. You win!’ “On and on the banter went and it was obvious they relate better with each other. I stood holding a tray, not knowing what to say. He liked computer games, I thought. I knew nothing about them. I had never felt so old in my life. Somehow, the meal didn’t taste as exciting as I thought it would—even with the wine. After he left, Nancy joked she thought he fancied me. ‘He must be full of himself,’ she said. ‘He must realize you two have no future. You’re almost old enough to be his mum.’

I winced; I didn’t want to hear that. She went on and on about young men on campus chasing after older women for what they could get out of it. I reminded her that Greg was almost 30. ‘And you’re 43, scarcely his age mate,’ she said. ‘Get rid of him Mum, before he starts making passes at you.’

As innocent as her remarks were, she made me miserable. Yes, I was some 13 years older than Greg, but that didn’t seem to matter when I was in his embrace. It was as if I shed an extra year with every piece of clothing he took off. That night, I slept badly, as it suddenly struck me. Had Greg been fobbing

me off meeting his friends because of the age difference? Or was I being paranoid? It was inevitable that the bubble would eventually burst. Greg’s girlfriend, who I never knew existed, started demanding more of his time. I couldn’t go to his flat as often as I used to, so he came to mine instead. Until that fateful day I was in the bathroom in his house after a steamy session.

As I came out there was this pair of eyes regarding me as if I were an alien. Greg was fully dressed by now while all I had on was his dirty grey towel tied round my boobs. Greg blocked the way to the bedroom so I could quickly get dressed. It was as if he feared she might create a scene. “She didn’t say a thing as I came out of the bedroom—just kept giving me that curious look. It was really embarrassing.

I made as decent an escape as I could whilst Greg made sure he saw me to my car. That was the last time we made love. It was ok when we had no distractions, but when I saw that girl’s eyes, it was as if she were Nancy, giving me an accusing look. I see Greg from time to time and we are civil to each other. At 30 he should be left alone to plan his future—I’d had my fun!”

 

How do you explain that toy-boy to your daughter? on Vanguard News.

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