Saturday, May 20, 2006

Can I impress women in bars with my 401K?

Offensively Orated By Killer

There comes a time in every young man's life when he must except the fact that he has finally made the jump from frisky young lad to dirty old man. I don't believe there is anytime to actually enjoy just being a regular guy. It apparently just goes straight from one to the next. Sitting in a bar enjoying the lovely ladies walk by is expected of a young virile man. People might think you are a homosexual if you don't check out the ass of a good looking gal as she strolls by. Suddenly, one day, you look up from a lingering view and the bartender is giving you a look of disgust. Is it the graying, receding hairline? Is it the elastic waist banded pants pulled up around my arm pits? Maybe it is the dentures I have soaking in my beer glass. (beer just tastes better when it savored by your stinky gum holes.) Somewhere, somehow, I have passed my sexual expiration date, and I think I might be starting to smell funny.
Part of the problem could be the locations that I choose to belly up to the bar. I think the older people usually drink in seedy hotel bars, often located near an airport. But I enjoy drinking around the young folk. I need to feel the energy provided by a group of newly legal drinkers trying desperately to do as many shots as possible. It is nostalgic, and when one inevitably passes out in the bathroom you can defray the cost of your own bar tab by taking all the cash out of his pockets.
The socially acceptable age of my love interests is constantly on the rise. I can actually remember when I would not think of dating a 28 year old, because I did not want to date someone who's biological clock was rapidly approaching zero like a bomb about to explode. Now a 28 year old is bordering on being too young, a 24 year old would be a trophy wife, and an eighteen year old could, theoretically, be my own child. If only I had been cool enough to have sex at fifteen.
I guess it is official that I am a dirty old man. It is probably too late to change it, and I am not sure if I really want to anyway. Even if I did manage to find the only single, non-divorced, woman my own age who did not have kids, and she was willing to put up with me long enough to establish a respectable relationship, I would just show my true colors in the end when I asked her to wear a catholic school girl costume to bed.

No comments: