Night On Bald Mountain at Amazon
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I’m in my late 50′s t early 60′s and I take delight in sex. Well, let me put it this way, it’s been awhile but if I ever do it again I’m sure I’ll get enjoyment from it. I know, I know, someone my age saying he enjoys sex this freaks some of you younger humans out. That’s gotta be like the basi time you realized what it was that your parents had to have been doing in order to end up with you. Don’t get too trouble though because you have only two options. Either you too will get to this age and freak out the people younger than you, or you won’t and, well, you won’t have to worry with regards to it. Now, I do worry with regards to sex. No, no, not the normal stuff. Disease? Hell, I have more to worry when it comes to from high blood pressure and high cholesterol than disease. The thing I worry regarding the most will just evade you younger folks until you get to my age. You see, when you’re younger and are getting it on with a collaborator you may worry in regards to her squealing like a chipmunk or the girl they called Lassie in the basi Porky’s movie. If you’re a girl in a motel you may have to worry regarding the guy getting into a rhythm and banging the headboard of the bed into the wall causing the neighbors in the next room to pound on the wall. At my age you worry in regards to wrinkles. You actually don’t care in regards to what the wrinkles look like. By the time you get to my age everything has shifted so much you’re a walking example of tectonic plate migration. No, you worry when it comes to wrinkles because, more than likely your collaborator will be covered with them too. Then, you don’t care if she sounds like Lassie or he knocks the headboard versus the wall, because as soon as you begin in, both of you rubbing your wrinkles together will sound like someone walking down the street in a new pair of corduroys. That’s gotta be a mood killer right off the bat. That’s why I worry regarding wrinkles. Dating in your 50′s and 60′s is unquestionably not like dating in your 20′s. Think with regards to it. In your 20′s you are concerned with what bands the other person likes, what theme parks they like going to, even what movies are their favorites. In your 50′s you have to wonder whether the other person still has all their own body elements and, if not, how do you ask which one’s are missing or have been substituted without finding out in an awkward intimate moment. I mean, when you were younger and you woke up next to somebody you brought home the night before you might be shocked to find out the snored, drooled or were, egad, ugly! When you’re my age you wake up next to an individual who in all likelihood does snore, unquestionably drools, is ugly and has taken her teeth out and set them on the nightstand! Another shocker most young humans don’t know is that when you get older your hair starts falling out. Both men and women suffer this problem. No, I’m not talking in regards to the hair on your head, everyone is conscious of that. I mean, elsewhere. Imagine looking at a naked man or woman, no teeth, slumping in places you didn’t even know could slump when you were 20 and exclusively bald. Almost wants to make you die young doesn’t it? Having pulled through to this point and learning all I recognise now only one other thing really, genuinely frightens me. When I was 20 I didn’t realize that was as good as it got. When I was 30 things were worse but not that much worse. When I was 40 things were unquestionably worse but bearable. When I was 50 things were a whole lot worse and I started ignoring a heap of of the things I took for granted in my 20′s, like teeth. I recognise now that it’s only downhill from here and it’s gets worse more immediate each year. Fortunately I have a great sense of humor and I’m looking forward to laughing at myself the entire journey. Kinda like watching a in truth bad movie that’s so bad it’s funny. That’s sex in your old age.
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