And he asked me to call him ?son?
Photo by Brooke Cagle on Unsplash
I met Hurricane online.
It was 2016, and I had been single for the last six months. Incidentally, it was the first time I had been single since high school. Although I wasn?t actively pursuing a relationship ? I didn?t even want to date again ? I did find myself passively pursuing male attention.
Thanks to my newfound social media addiction, I had no lack of strange men pounding on my virtual door. They promised me everything from love to sex and whatever lay in between. I didn?t take any of it seriously, and then he slid into my direct messages.
Hurricane was not my type at all, but he was persistent. At the time, persistence was key. I hadn?t yet learned the art of blocking unwanted attention. Instead, I just let it continue until I found myself wanting it.
I have to admit that his name was a serious selling point. How can a woman resist a name like that? It was like something out of a romance novel ? and yes, Hurricane was his real name. It didn?t take long before I went from disinterested to smitten.
This young man was two decades my junior. Unlike another twenty-something with whom I?d experienced a short-term online romance, he was excited by the age difference. In fact, it was the reason he initially sought me out.
Hurricane had a penchant for older women. To my dismay, I was an older woman ? even though I felt like I was his age, that was far removed from reality.
He asked me for my phone number, saying it was easier to text than exchange direct messages via Twitter. I soon learned that was a ruse to be able to call me. My phone rang within a minute of messaging him with my cellphone number.
Our first conversation was a disaster. He almost immediately referenced the age difference and tried to guess my age based on photos he?d seen on social media. Although he actually guessed my age to be about a decade younger than I was, I felt attacked and insulted and told him so. I was angry and offended. So I abruptly ended the conversation and the call.
That didn?t stop him from calling again ? and again ? and asking me to walk him through his masturbation sessions, which frequently took place in a bathroom stall at his job.
I figured there was no harm in engaging him in dirty talk and exchanging flirty photos ? until he suddenly started calling me ?mom.? To say I was taken aback would be an understatement. I was enraged.
Little by little, I allowed him to convince me that it was harmless. I allowed him to call me ?mom? during phone sex and sexting and ? gasp ? video chat. I didn?t enjoy it at all, but when he asked me to start calling him ?son,? I did.
I am as open-minded as can be. So why did it make me feel dirty and ashamed that I allowed him to call me ?mom? during sex talk? The answer is simple. If we had both been excited by it, then it would have been appropriate. However, we were not both excited by it. He was excited, and I was disgusted.
His incest fantasies weren?t a problem for me. I would have gladly role-played being cousins or siblings. It was focusing on my age that turned me off. I don?t want to be someone?s mother. Younger men are hot, but being reminded that I am the older woman doesn?t turn me on.
I am a person, not a number or a collection of numbers. My age and my weight aren?t numbers I choose to include in sexual banter. Our encounters left me feeling bad about my age and bad about myself.
What I learned from the experience was not to agree to anything that makes me uncomfortable just to please someone else.
