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BY PETER SOLIS NERY
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Wednesday, august 2, 2017
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A cougar in August
NINE years to the day yesterday, I got married to an American. He died more than two and a half years ago in December 2014. So yeah, I became a widower at 45.
Although I occasionally miss my spouse, I’m generally a happy widower. Finally, I am living the life I want — retired, unemcumbered, and with some financial freedom and stability.
My spouse didn’t leave me with a lot of money. In fact, I feel cheated of most of it. But for me, it’s just money. I can let that go. I’m not the materialistic kind anyway.
I’m pretty smart, but I wasn’t so smart as to demand that he makes me the beneficiary of all his monies when we got married. I guess I was also too proud at the time to be seen as a gold digger.
But I was smart enough to save my own money from working as a nurse. I was smart enough to make him foot most of the bills when we were married.
So that when he died and didn’t leave me much money, I had enough of my own to still afford being retired at 45.
In perspective, I cannot really be angry with my dead spouse. Most of those money he left to his sister, he earned even before I knew him. It was his retirement money, and he didn’t name me the beneficiary.
What makes me angry from time to time though, is the memory of him telling my friends that when he dies, he’s going to leave me as one very rich man. Liar! Showoff! Braggart!
But considering that I didn’t really do much for him when he was alive, I feel happy and content with the deal I got.
Let me clarify. Of course, I did much in the sense that I gave him a new sense of life in his 60s. I gave him a lot in the sense that I shared with him my “youth and beauty” instead of spending it with Tom Cruise or Ashton Kutcher, or someone close.
But you see, I didn’t even have to take care of him in his old age. I didn’t suffer taking care of an invalid septuagenarian. So yeah, generally, I’m pretty accepting of the deal I got.
These days, I’m a cougar. I still like men of a certain age. But because I was with an older gay man for eight years (two years as domestic partners, and six years as a married couple), I’m trying to enjoy spending time — especially sexy time, with boys and younger men.
It’s not easy to be older, and seeking the pleasurable company of younger men. But I know that it isn’t impossible. I mean, I’m still smoking hot and sexy at 48. And, as an additional advantage, I have some money to burn.
I do not mean that I buy my men. Although I did that once, too, right after my spouse died, just to see what my money can buy.
But I only mean that because I have money to spare now, I can always take my boys anywhere I want, and wine and dine them. It’s just a nice way to burn my money.
Trust me. When money is not an issue, sex is easier and more fun.
Sex and money make me feel so powerful. It’s not as powerful as prayer. But, hey!
I love my husband, although I always think of him as my “wife”. I hope he is granted heavenly peace despite my early curses on his soul.
Oh, yeah. On the first days and months after he died, I did curse him for not leaving me enough money to secure my future. And I cursed him to rot in hell.
But you have to understand, I was angry. I was overwhelmed. I felt terribly cheated.
I mean, I still do feel like that occasionally. But I’ve learned to accept my fate, and look at the brighter side of life.
I’ll probably curse him again when my money runs out, or when something bad happens. But for now, I’m okay. I’m having fun.
In fact, his “betrayal” makes me feel okay to do exactly what I want. Not that I need some justification, encouragement, or something.
I just mean that because he cheated me of some inheritance, I don’t feel the need to mourn him for very long, or to delay having as many boys as I can afford.
My husband once said that when a good gay man dies, his soul will be taken to the Philippines, and will be richly rewarded with beautiful Filipino boys. I’m thinking about that now.
My gay friends in the Philippines are telling me, I should just buy my fun. They think I’m doing it all wrong with the falling in love drama, and courtship thing.
They think that I should take the boys to dinner and movie dates only after going to bed with them.
I see their point. In fact, didn’t I give that as a sex-and-dating advice when I ran a newspaper sex column in the first decade of the millennium?
But sometimes, I do not take my own advice.
I may do sex before dinner every now and then. I can afford that. But that’s not really my style.
I’m pretty much a demisexual. Meaning, I only enjoy sex after the formation of a strong emotional bond. So, yeah. I can be pretty monogamous. I actually fall in love, a lot.
My problem in the Philippines, unlike in America, is that not many gay boys fancy a gay man like me.
Like the older gay generation (including mine), the Filipino gay boys still desire the heterosexual men who only relates to them sexually, and however else, for financial and economic reasons.
I have always detested that. Growing up, I have seen many gay people, including many friends, getting abused and exploited by so-called macho men having sex with them.
Seriously, I do not believe in gay for pay. Although I am beginning to entertain the idea.
I mean, I have to evolve in my thinking, you know. Because, when I look around me, I also see people’s thinking evolving.
I mean, while it is true that I am not having the easiest time hooking up with younger boys, I’m beginning to see more gay boys having relationships with other gay boys.
In five or 10 years’ time, but definitely in my lifetime, I think Filipino gay boys will come to prefer relationships with other gay people rather than fix their desire and attraction to elusive gay men.
Of course, I also foresee happening in my lifetime the more fluid sexual identities in the Philippines very much like in America, where there is no longer strict categories of hetero and homosexual identities, especially in terms of sexual activities, proclivities, and desire.
So, yeah. I’d like to be a part of that process of educating the Filipino gay mind. If I get laid because I have sexy thoughts like these printed in the newspapers, I really don’t mind.
Hey, thanks to my dead husband, I’m a widower!
Happy anniversary, sweetheart! (500tinaga@gmail.com/PN)
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