Lolita Complex

A friend of mine -- someone I've gone to school with for a long time -- recently hooked up with a nubile 19-year-old model for some fun on the side (he's married with kids), and it seems Little Missy has messed with his mind quite a bit, because he's now contemplating divorcing his wife of 8 years for the sweet young thing.

So over a couple of drinks (I finally decided to be sociable again), we were chatting with some other friends, and while we all joked about his mojo and congratulating him on his latest conquest, the agenda of the night was telling the guy what a bad idea it is to dump his wife and kids for a young hussy who probably would get bored of him after a while once the novelty of having an older guy with means wears off.

Personally, I think it's one thing to land yourself a hot young chick once in a while, if only to convince yourself you've still got the sex appeal to do so; it's quite another when the relationship goes beyond a casual fling and develops into Wife Number Two.

And personally too, I think the age gap is too big a problem for my liking: I seriously wouldn't know what to talk to her about, and I don't think the latest teeny-booper sensations or new-fangled fads and trends that intrigue adolescents and very young adults would interest me at all. Of course, I could look beyond all that and focus on the feel, taste and the sensation of fucking her all for fun, but certainly I don't think I would be able to hold a satisfactorily decent conversation with someone who is more than 10 years my junior.

I don't even want to start speculating on why Little Missy would even be interested in the Friend, and I suppose it's unfair to judge, because then, the stereotypes would creep in-- yet, how could we discount the probability that she may only be interested in him because he's her walking Visa/Mastercard? As it is, the Friend has indulged quite a bit in her fancies, the latest being a Chanel bag for Christmas that he could easily afford, but looks pretty weird on a 19-year-old, nonetheless.

But fine, in the spirit of things, and this being Christmas and all, we shan't dwell on the spending.  

The bigger question is: how long before the Friend gets equally tired of the novelty of a new toy, and if that be true, it would be fucking stupid to give up a family for a bit of tail that really gets you nowhere.

And in the end, the group therapy got nowhere because the booze did nothing to clear our heads, the Friend had to leave to pick up Little Missy from one of her assignments, and another friend hooked up with some dishy Caucasian babe at the pub, leaving just me and another guy to crash the rest of the evening with. And since we didn't wanna look like a gay pair, we parted ways... in other words, nothing much achieved, really.

"Who's your daddy..."