Mike's Visit
In my idiotic blog I have repeatedly mentioned that I am in a relationship with a man who is significantly older than I am. Steve is his name. I can talk about a few somewhat sensitive and occasionally prickly things here in my blog, concerning the relationship, and other things, because of the few readers who bother with this blog, none personally know me. For me, the blog is sort of therapeutic.
Last Saturday I was introduced to Steve’s son, Mike. I write about it now because I think the dust has settled from the meeting. Steve has two children from his past marriage, a 20 year-old daughter, Carli, who goes to school at the University of Arizona in Tucson, and Mike, his 24 year-old son, who lives just outside of Phoenix.
I knew two weeks in advance that Mike was coming down to Yuma to visit his father for the weekend, and I knew I was going to be a part of that visit. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it other than I could internally detect a pretty good helping of nervousness, and perhaps even a little bit of dread. Obviously the problem was; Mike is only 3 years younger than me. A number of curious facts came into my mind concerning this narrow age differential. I think the first of them was quickly calculating that Mike and I were in high school at the same time. Of course we attended different high schools, but though I am a little older, our high school careers actually overlapped. Along those same lines, I also ascertained that Mike had been born before I was yet in kindergarten. What’s really odd, and ironic, is that I have never done any of these types of computations concerning Steve, computations such as; Steve was 7 years out of high school before I was even born. (Okay, that was my first one, I swear.)
Naturally, Mike knew all the specifics about me before we ever met, specifics such as my appearance, my age, etc. Consequently when we were introduced, Mike did not bat an eye. He simply smiled, shook my hand, and told me he was glad to meet me. I could have been a 50 year-old woman and his demeanor would have been no different. Now, a few days later, I believe Mike must have put in a little effort preparing himself for me, steeling himself from any embarrassing reaction, no matter what that reaction might be. To be honest, if that is in fact what he did, I truly appreciate it.
We sat in Steve’s living room with Steve sitting alongside me on the sofa, and Mike relaxing in a nearby chair. I could see immediately that Steve treats his son like a fellow adult rather than a subordinate or in a sophomoric manner. I was not at all surprised given that that Steve has always treated me as an equal too. Still, though they treated each other with respect and occasionally with humor, they were not exactly best buddies either. There was just a touch of tension there, not much, but a little.
Mike received the story of how his father and I first met, this time hearing it from me, as well as details about myself, details such as my hobbies and interests. Steve mentioned about how he and I will often hike desert trails in the relative cool of the evening, and how he has a new appreciation of desert scenery. I revealed that I have a mild anxiety disorder. Then, in a lighthearted manner, I told the story about Steve’s first real experience with it when I had a spontaneous, full-blown anxiety attack. I did not plan on mentioning my disorder, but I could see that Mike was an intelligent person, could handle it, and maybe even appreciate it.
I stayed about two hours, maybe a little longer. I then lied and said I just had to go grocery shopping. As for Mike’s visit, my goal from the beginning was to come off as an intelligent, rational woman who just happened to be in a relationship with an older man. Upon review, I think I succeeded fairly well.
Mike left to return to Phoenix the following afternoon, Sunday. Sunday evening I visited Steve. He said that he thought that Mike’s visit had gone well. Steve then added that he believed his son was jealous of him, because of me. For a few seconds I just glared at Steve. I think I then babbled something like, “I hope you’re kidding.” Steve just smiled and nodded casually. The nod wasn’t 100% convincing.
Nothing against Mike, but I’m glad his visit is now over.
Last Saturday I was introduced to Steve’s son, Mike. I write about it now because I think the dust has settled from the meeting. Steve has two children from his past marriage, a 20 year-old daughter, Carli, who goes to school at the University of Arizona in Tucson, and Mike, his 24 year-old son, who lives just outside of Phoenix.
I knew two weeks in advance that Mike was coming down to Yuma to visit his father for the weekend, and I knew I was going to be a part of that visit. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it other than I could internally detect a pretty good helping of nervousness, and perhaps even a little bit of dread. Obviously the problem was; Mike is only 3 years younger than me. A number of curious facts came into my mind concerning this narrow age differential. I think the first of them was quickly calculating that Mike and I were in high school at the same time. Of course we attended different high schools, but though I am a little older, our high school careers actually overlapped. Along those same lines, I also ascertained that Mike had been born before I was yet in kindergarten. What’s really odd, and ironic, is that I have never done any of these types of computations concerning Steve, computations such as; Steve was 7 years out of high school before I was even born. (Okay, that was my first one, I swear.)
Naturally, Mike knew all the specifics about me before we ever met, specifics such as my appearance, my age, etc. Consequently when we were introduced, Mike did not bat an eye. He simply smiled, shook my hand, and told me he was glad to meet me. I could have been a 50 year-old woman and his demeanor would have been no different. Now, a few days later, I believe Mike must have put in a little effort preparing himself for me, steeling himself from any embarrassing reaction, no matter what that reaction might be. To be honest, if that is in fact what he did, I truly appreciate it.
We sat in Steve’s living room with Steve sitting alongside me on the sofa, and Mike relaxing in a nearby chair. I could see immediately that Steve treats his son like a fellow adult rather than a subordinate or in a sophomoric manner. I was not at all surprised given that that Steve has always treated me as an equal too. Still, though they treated each other with respect and occasionally with humor, they were not exactly best buddies either. There was just a touch of tension there, not much, but a little.
Mike received the story of how his father and I first met, this time hearing it from me, as well as details about myself, details such as my hobbies and interests. Steve mentioned about how he and I will often hike desert trails in the relative cool of the evening, and how he has a new appreciation of desert scenery. I revealed that I have a mild anxiety disorder. Then, in a lighthearted manner, I told the story about Steve’s first real experience with it when I had a spontaneous, full-blown anxiety attack. I did not plan on mentioning my disorder, but I could see that Mike was an intelligent person, could handle it, and maybe even appreciate it.
I stayed about two hours, maybe a little longer. I then lied and said I just had to go grocery shopping. As for Mike’s visit, my goal from the beginning was to come off as an intelligent, rational woman who just happened to be in a relationship with an older man. Upon review, I think I succeeded fairly well.
Mike left to return to Phoenix the following afternoon, Sunday. Sunday evening I visited Steve. He said that he thought that Mike’s visit had gone well. Steve then added that he believed his son was jealous of him, because of me. For a few seconds I just glared at Steve. I think I then babbled something like, “I hope you’re kidding.” Steve just smiled and nodded casually. The nod wasn’t 100% convincing.
Nothing against Mike, but I’m glad his visit is now over.
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