I mentioned before that I am not comfortable with having a boy toy. I’ll tell you why. When I hit thirty-five for some reason, younger men started following me. Ask me out or getting to know me. At first, it was cool, why not someone younger and virile and handsome. I paid most of the way, not sure why it seemed expected of me.
One guy, in particular, let’s name him Trevor. We met casually in Venice, strike up a
After a while of this and my funds were running low. I told him that he also has a job and he might want to pay his way. I have my apartment and car, he still lived at home and rode with his aunt to work.
Guess what happened next. Guess. No really guess.
I NEVER HEARD OR SAW HIM AGAIN.