My fur went up when watching this old coot maul this young lady who could have been his granddaughter. She was pretty with a little too much eyeliner, and from the looks of it, he had just taken her shopping since she was surrounded by Saks and Bergdorf bags.
I wanted to say, hey Grampa, you cashing in on your investment so soon? It’s a good thing I wasn’t drinking anything stronger than tea.
I can remember dating an older man who didn’t buy me a thing…a salad here and there, but I genuinely liked him.
This little lady looked as if it was all about the perks the way she ALLOWED him to nuzzle and guzzle her. In other words, ardor was nowhere to be seen. You could just see her looking at her nails while he had sex, or at least his version anyway. He was old, so unless he has an IV of Viagra in his johnson, a term my father liked, his kitchen’s closed.
Camille say it’s very hard (well not really) when a man gets older to accept that he can no longer get a hot girl, so he simply pays for it. Maybe not in cold cash, but in shoes and accessories. She should know since her list of geezers wraps around the block. She tells me more often than not, all they want is company and to be seen with a pretty girl.
Not in this case though. This guy couldn’t keep his hands off of his little tchotchke who resembled a twenty-year-old Angelica Huston. His toupee, that looked as if it would take off any minute, was particularly alluring.
Of course I’m kidding. It looked as if it came with a tank of gas.
I sat sipping my mint tea thinking, I’ll write about you in an essay that you’ll never see… unless….
When the young lady escaped to the loo I leaned over and said, “Such a pretty girlfriend you have.”
He beamed like a tired theater marquee before saying, and grip your seats, “She is one of many.” Did I want to smack him, but had better ideas.
“You know I have a blog, and I write a lot about women.”
“Yes I do,” I purred, “and since you’re obviously an expert on the subject I would love for you to read it.” He immediately pulls out his mini iPad to take down my blog address.
Then the infant returns.
“I can’t leave you alone for a second, can I?” Oh please…I gave her a knowing look as if to say…who are you kidding Toots, before taking a polite leave.