I stopped dating older women after this

I don’t know what young guys see in older women. Why do they even want to date them?

While growing up I had this relationship with an elderly woman.

She was in her 50s.

I do not know why she liked me but she did. She developed this sweet feeling for me. She would call me on phone in the afternoons to come stay with her. According to her, she said I made her laugh out her spirit and soul.

I was always excited to visit and spend time with her.

This was because there was always so much enjoyment to eat at her place. And when I left, I left with a pocket filled with cash.

This Woman was always complaining of leg pain as a result of athritis. Gradually I started giving her back massage, and my back massage eventually developed into waist and butt massage.

It was fun doing it. I was enjoying it. But as time went on, I realized this woman started having feelings for me.

She will joke about getting married to me. She will tell me how much I made her happy. She started going through my phone every time I visited her.

I had friends I won’t deny that.

This particular day, I visited her at her house after hanging out with Patricia; a lady friend of mine whom I had met on Facebook.

When I entered the sitting room, her cook told me she was in the bedroom and was waiting for me.

I ran upstairs to her.

I found her lying on the bed. She asked me where I had been and I lied to her. I told her that I went to church. As I approached the bed, I saw a short gun lying comfortably on the chair.

The gun looked like it was waiting for me.

It was placed just the way my mother will place her whip whenever I returned late from school.

My heart skipped.

Fear gripped me.

I took two steps backward.

I was wondering if the woman wanted to kill me, shoot me, or paralyze me for cheating on her with another woman.

Without turning to look at me, she mumbled.

“Get on my back and give me a waist massage.”

Who was I to complain? Gun was just beside her. I climbed her back like a cowboy and started massaging.

She started telling me how she wanted to marry me and how my parents will refuse to give me to her in marriage. And how she will not be able to give me a child even if she marries me.

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I was smiling and looking at the gun with one eye.

My mind was not with her at all.

Then she asked.

“Chidera will you marry me?”

I looked at the gun again, swallowed saliva, and shook my head.

“Yes, I will marry you.”

She chuckled.

“But do you need Children?”

I nodded my head and answered.

“No o. I don’t.”

Then she stretched her hands towards the gun. When her hands could not reach it, she groaned.

“Give me the gun, Praises.”

“You say?” I asked.

“Help me with the gun?” She spoke again.

Ah! My body became cold.

I started wondering if this was how I will die and nobody will know where I died. Is this how the story of a great writer will end? How will I tell God that I was the one who gave the gun to my serial killer with my own hands?

I was shuddering as I handed her the gun.

She corked it.

Uncorked it.

And corked the gun back.

“So do you love me?” She asked.

By this time I was doing the massage anyhow. I was just rubbing my hands anyplace it took me.

I didn’t know how to tell her I was okay with the massage.

I shook my head and answered.

“Yes, ma. I love you.”

Then she coughed. Thank God for bringing her cough. She asked me to go and bring her water to drink.

I picked a glass cup beside her and left the room. I started heading to the exit door with glass cup. When I got outside the compound, I removed my shoe and ran. I ran with all my spirit and soul. Glass cup was in my hands.

See the glass cup here.

I never returned it. I never went back to the house again. If an elderly woman tells me she likes me and I see this glass cup, I will just change my mind.

Elderly Woman will just be intimidating young young guys everywhere with gun.

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