Old Man Syndrome

  As far as I can remember, I have been attracted to older men. It started when an ex and I had broken up. We were the same age, nineteen. He frequented the strip clubs and spent most of his paycheck on them. All I ever got from him was a blunt and a wet ass. Once I found out what was going on, I made a scene in the middle of the street. To my surprise, the guy just walked by me like I was a crazy woman he had never met. He didn't care about me, it was all about sex. Sitting on a kiddie swing in the park, an older man about fifty approached me and told me to hold my head up. He also took me out to a buffet and brought me a blueberry jogging suit. That was the most I had ever gotten from a man, so it made me feel good. I was in love with older men. Young guys were too immature.
   We talked for a few weeks and he moved me into his apartment. Anything I wanted, I got. Though, his silver chest hair and overlapping gut made me want to vomit, emotionally, the guy was there for me. Two years of Old Loving had me wiser and mature. I had gained weight, finished school and even began wearing makeup. Being twenty-one had its perks. The clubs were very tempting. Men of all ages began to show interest in me, but Old Loving refused to allow me to grow up. He found a phone number in my purse and threw me out of the apartment. He had taken all of my clothes and everything else he had brought me and told me if I wanted to leave, I would leave naked. It didn't hit me until I found myself sitting on the chair watching reruns of Fred Sanford, that this guy was no better than my ex. He was just as immature as the others. Playing the possessive game until I got a job at a department store. Working to get my own apartment proved to be a difficult task. Old Loving called my boss and told her I was using drugs resulting in me getting fired. With nowhere to go, I was back on Old Loving's couch watching Fred Sanford again. It wasn't until Christmas when I met Old Loving's father that I realized age did not matter, it never mattered. Old Loving Sr. was a gentlemen. Although, he was in a wheelchair and wrinkled from head to toe with more plastic and metal in him than a Hollywood whore, he was sweet to me. I loved him for taking the audacity to die and leave me in his will. Old Loving Jr. was extremely angry when he was given nothing. The company Old Loving Sr. owned was willed to me. Which meant Old Loving Jr. worked for me. He rebelled. Threatened to leave. How those harsh words echoed in the air.
  "If you want to leave, you'll leave naked."