Dear Ann Landers, I am a 24-year-old divorcee and have been dating a 63-year-old widower for the past seven months. He is not a millionaire, nor is he famous, but he has something that is almost impossible to find in men my age these days. I'm talking about integrity, maturity and a sense of responsibility. Best of all, he is a gentleman and knows how to treat a woman.
This man was not looking for a trophy girlfriend. He is very much into physical fitness and wanted a woman who shared his enthusiasm for scuba diving, weightlifting, running, motorcycling and dancing. Both his family and mine have been supportive of our relationship. My parents saw me leave an abusive marriage, and his children know how much he suffered when his wife of 38 years died after a long illness. They just want us to be happy.
I realize if we stay together, I may wind up being his caretaker and possibly a young widow, but I am perfectly willing to take that risk. -- May-December Magic
Dear Magic, This could work because your eyes are wide open and you understand the risks. I wish you all the best. Here's one more on the subject:
Dear Ann: A family in Michigan had three daughters. The youngest, "Stella," married a wealthy man her own age. After a few years, he fell in love with a married woman. Together, they plotted and executed the murder of the woman's husband. Stella's husband is still in prison. Stella died after enduring years of grief.
The second daughter, "Hortense," married a young businessman. During his midlife crisis, he fell in love with another woman and deserted Hortense and their five children, along with his elderly mother, who lived with them. Grieving over the breakup of the family, his mother and youngest son died.
I married the youngest daughter, "Grace," when she was 24 and I was 46. I was concerned about our age difference and suggested she pick a younger suitor. Taking this as a mark of good character, she said, "Let's proceed." We have been married for 47 years and have two sons. I am now 93, Grace is 71, and we are still dancing. I bless the day we met. -- H.B. in Salem, Ore.
Hi! It's Margo here. I'd love to know what you think of the letters -- and the answers!
Also, any additional thoughts you might have. Thanks!
Reader Comment
Is there a request for advice in that letter? I don't see one.
Rod Munch's Comment
Makes sense!!! Maybe the LW just needed a father figure in her.... life! 😉
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Dear Readers, , and exciting. She’d been around. My parents warned me to have nothing to do with her. They claimed no good could come from our relationship. But I kept meeting her on the sly. She was so sophisticated and worldly. It made me feel grown up just being with her. It was fun to take her to a party in those days. She was almost always the center of attention. We began seeing more of each other after I started college. When I got a place of my own, she was a frequent guest. It wasn’t long before The II e s i he A\\Lam iie iis I 2 Ii *) she moved in with me. It may have been common-law, but it was heart-breaking for my parents. I kept reminding myself I wasn’t a kid any-more. Besides, it was legal. We lived together right through college and into my early days in business. I seldom went anywhere without her, but I wasn’t blind. I knew she was unfaithful to me. What’s worse, I didn’t care. As long as she was there for me when I needed her (and she always was), it didn’t matter. The longer we lived together, the more attached I became. But it wasn’t mutual. She began to delight in making me look foolish in front of my friends. But still I couldn’t give her up. It became a love/hate relationship. I figured out that her glamour was nothing more than a cheap mask to hide her spite and cynicism. I could no longer see her beauty after I came to know her true character. But old habits are hard to break. We had invested many years in each other. Even though my relationship with her made me lose a little re-spect for myself, she had become the center of my life. We didn’t go anywhere. We didn’t do anything. We didn’t have friends over. It was just the two of us. I became deeply depressed and knew that she was re-sponsible for my misery. I finally told her I was leaving for good. It took a lot of guts, but I left. I still see her around. She’s as beautiful as when we met. I still miss her now and then. I’m not boasting when I say she’d take me back in a minute. But by the grace of God, I’ll never take up with her again. If you see her, give her my regards. I don’t hate her. I just loved her too much. Chances are you know her family. The name is Alcohol. -Robert L. Rodgers, Waco, Texas
