Back in the early 1980s, an actual gangster offered to set me up in an apartment in Atlanitc City. He was awfully cute, but I just couldn’t see myself going platinum blonde, chewing gum and talking like Iris Adrian, so I politely turned him down.
Darnit.
I was briefly involved in a relationship that had the potential. I met this woman in Puerto Rico, I was 32-33 at the time, she about 60. She 1st invited me to a beach party, which I thought was just a friendly gesture. The “beach party” turned out to be a very posh affair, catering, entertainment, the works. It was clear she saw me as her date. I was OK w/ it, she was attractive, personable, fun to be with. We dated half a dozen times, or so, over the next 4-6 weeks. I think it was on the second, or third date, that I went to her home and spent the night. She had a spacious, elegant apartment in a high rise near San Juan, private underground garage, security guards.
A couple of times we went to restaurants and she insisted, ahead of time, that I was her guest. She bought me a few gifts, mostly clothes. (I was on military deployment and only had a minimum of civvies), but I bought her little gifts also. She showed me the sites around the area. I learned that she was a widow and owned a chain of furniture stores. I met her daughter, who was about my age, and she made little pretense about her dislike for me. She obviously thought I was taking advantage of her mother. In the end she broached the subject of getting married, she even said she understood, because of our age difference, that I might want to see other people and she would understand, as long as I was discrete and didn’t embarrass her. I found it a bit pathetic. I had enjoyed her company and I thought she realized it was just a fling. I didn’t see her after that. I don’t recall her trying to contact me either. I suspect she embarrassed herself, but I couldn’t let it go on. Kind of sad, the way it ended.
There was another incident, kind of along those lines, just about a decade ago. I was dating a local woman here, I’d only been seeing her for a few weeks. I needed a loan, for my business, of around 50K. I was complaining about the interest rates and she offered to loan it to me, interest free. I was surprised she would even offer, she didn’t really know me that well. I thanked her, but declined.
I was briefly engaged to a trust-fund baby. I would have most likely ended up kept. Money with no need to work…from birth… sure can grow a wierd person.
She offered to buy me a car (then a $24,000 item) if I’d propose to her. The scary thing is, she could write a check and still have two-thirds of her check-book balance left.
I got the winner comment one day: “You know, we’ll only be together for companionship, I don’t need anything else.” Nice knowing if she tires of you, you’re gone.
Lastly, I don’t think my comment: “If you don’t believe me, you never will. 10 years from now you’ll be able to say ‘He stayed or left, and it was all because of the money’.”
Well, She dumped me, I suspect my job interview with the Bank board of directors didn’t go well.
I’m rather glad things went the way they did, I was starting to have…unhealthy…thoughts. They curiously went away the exact moment we parted ways.
Mailed your gay husband’s lover?
I understand the gay husband’s lover part, not the mailed part. Explain?
Well, sort of…
I was not long back in the U.S. after Vietnam, Peace Corps and travel and I went back to college. I was older than the vast majority of other students. The French instructor decided I needed tutoring (like a dummy I thought she meant academics). I went over to her place one evening to work on my verb tenses and six months later I moved out because I had gotten a job out of state. In the interim however, I was kind of her boy toy. I think she was about two years older than I.
I was her escort to functions, and she paid the bills (it was her house - a pretty nice one too).
TV
I’m an unkempt man. Close enough?
I’m thinking she means married the gay husbands lover.
“Vito! we nevah go anywheah. Damn it! I’m goin’ to my mothah’s.”
I was given the opportunity once, but I had no desire to be anybody’s toy.
Of course, now I’m an under-employed stay-at-home mom and housewife, so I guess I’m kept. But damned if I don’t work for it!
Ha! After reading Nava’s post, I turned to my husband and said, “Hey, guess what?* I’m * a classy lady.”
Pausing just for a beat, then taking the bait, he says cautiously, “Yesss… but why?”
“Because you don’t loan me to your friends.”
Kodak moment, the look on his face. You know the movie Shrek, where Shrek and Donkey watch the Duloc dolls welcome thingy, and it takes their picture at the end? Yeah. Like that.
Anyway, I kind of had to be a bit of a kept woman for my first couple of years here in the US, waiting on my Green Card and all. I couldn’t legally work, so I sat at home, cleaned up, worked on my novels, painted, and countless other hobbies, and had sex with my husband whenever he was home. However, I really don’t think that is the technical definition of a “kept” person, since I got fat and bought my clothes at Old Navy. 
And besides, we were married. He has no interest in leaving me when my “beauty” fades, considering I have a serious lack of it to begin with!
Anyway, I work now. He says he wouldn’t mind being a kept man for a while. I might loan him to my friends sometimes, though. He’s not so classy. 
I beg your damn pardon. I am NOT a slut.
I’m a trollop.
(I have always wanted to use that word.)
By “mailed” did you perhaps mean “married”? Or did you really mail your husband’s gay lover somewhere? I think that would be cruel and unusual.
Sheeshed! I married my ex-husband’s gay lover so the lover could get a green card. Didn’t have to work for 2 1/2 years.
From information gathered questioning Latin American acquaintances, not only are some “PR ladies” not so much into public relations as into private ones, but yes, often on business meetings involving one she gets loaned to whomever her massa sees fit (if she doesn’t like it, tough bananas).
The fact that he even mentioned the possibility drove me to believe that he probably would, at some point, try to loan me out. I’m also 100% sure that he may or may not be a good lover but the reason he’s never received any criticism is that money has always been involved. And of course the “Visa and expense account, no salary” is a control mechanism about the size and weight of the Great Wall of China.
I joke that I’m a “kept man” because my partner is supporting me while I’m in school. He gives me money and buys me things while I contribute zilch to the household finances.
It occurred to me after I posted that in some ways, a “traditional” marriage is kind of like being kept. But with a traditional man-work/woman-home-maybe kids, the woman gets a legal contract and her position is legitimized, and there are recourses that ideally support and protect her should the marriage fail.
My husband has promised me that if his business grows to the point that he could support us both, I can quit my job and stay home. At one point in our marriage, he made much, much more than I did, and I finished university and worked part-time. Now, he’s out in his own business, and we’re making equivalent money, except I’m salaried and have a steady income. These days, I find I’m often the one writing cheques at the end of the month. That’s okay, we support each other, and the balance shifts back and forth over time.
But if I were Vivian in Pretty Woman, I’m pretty darned sure I would not have held out for the fairy tale ending–I would have been in that NYC apartment the next day! Just would have had to figure out a way to put money aside for when things get stale and saggy. 
Well, since they are fantasies, neither you nor your lovely ladies will ever age, so the whole “dumping them” will never happen, right. And you’ll have infinate wealth, so even if you get tired of them, you can keep supporting them.
(Why does this sound like bad vampire fiction?)