Self Pity
Its not easy leading my kind of lifestyle, especially when one is as advanced in years as I am. Ok so I don't look my age (Only reason I get away with as much as I do) but I damn well feel it at times. Mentally I am as agile as a twenty five year old, the trouble is that physically I can't see me passing another M.O.T, I need an urgent service, you know the kind of thing, healthy eating habits, exercise, cutting out the booze and late nights.
The problem is I can't have that long left, maybe fifteen years, twenty if I'm lucky and I don't want to spend my last few years on an exercise bike, checking my blood sugar level, and keeping my cholesterol under 4.6. Since the wife left I have re discovered the joys of sex and being pissed, not both together of course, one negates the other, well it does at my age. But a couple of cheeky vimto's and a roll around the living room floor can do wonders for an old farts moral.
Since I embarked on this wayward life, I have been amazed at the number of younger women who prefer the company of an older man. I haven't really had to do any work, at virtually any social gathering I attend you can bet that there will be several young things who are impressed by my confident and worldly manner. They are won over by my aura of power, reassured by the feeling of safety that envelops them when in my company. Ok so I exaggerated a little but there must be some truth in there somewhere, analysing why women like what they like has never been easy for any man, but I persevere the rewards are great I know.
One of the downers about dating the younger woman is that their taste in music doesn't even come close to mine, I spend hours pretending to like the music they listen to, and if that isn't bad enough they expect me to dance to it, and I do. God knows what I must look like bouncing around like a Pratt, but they don't seem to mind, in fact they encourage and appreciate it. However whilst I'm doing my moves I am constantly aware that I can't be too energetic because some of the available battery power will be needed for the carnal athletics later on, if I'm lucky.
I suppose my behaviour is the last kick towards the shore of a drowning man, but if I'm going under then at least I will do so in the classic crawl style of Mark Spitz rather than the spluttering, floundering of someone out of their depth. Like my Father used to say "Always look like you know what you're doing even if you don't" and I do rather well at that I think.
Since my violent projection into the life of a single man, I have known nine women (Bible terminology). The oldest was thirty five, and the youngest twenty three, I am still on drinking terms with five of them, I assume I still have the option there, But in my present state of decay my downward spiral into ill health can only exelerate unless I act now, and arrest and reverse the demise of my failing flesh. I will keep you posted, but don't expect too much.
The problem is I can't have that long left, maybe fifteen years, twenty if I'm lucky and I don't want to spend my last few years on an exercise bike, checking my blood sugar level, and keeping my cholesterol under 4.6. Since the wife left I have re discovered the joys of sex and being pissed, not both together of course, one negates the other, well it does at my age. But a couple of cheeky vimto's and a roll around the living room floor can do wonders for an old farts moral.
Since I embarked on this wayward life, I have been amazed at the number of younger women who prefer the company of an older man. I haven't really had to do any work, at virtually any social gathering I attend you can bet that there will be several young things who are impressed by my confident and worldly manner. They are won over by my aura of power, reassured by the feeling of safety that envelops them when in my company. Ok so I exaggerated a little but there must be some truth in there somewhere, analysing why women like what they like has never been easy for any man, but I persevere the rewards are great I know.
One of the downers about dating the younger woman is that their taste in music doesn't even come close to mine, I spend hours pretending to like the music they listen to, and if that isn't bad enough they expect me to dance to it, and I do. God knows what I must look like bouncing around like a Pratt, but they don't seem to mind, in fact they encourage and appreciate it. However whilst I'm doing my moves I am constantly aware that I can't be too energetic because some of the available battery power will be needed for the carnal athletics later on, if I'm lucky.
I suppose my behaviour is the last kick towards the shore of a drowning man, but if I'm going under then at least I will do so in the classic crawl style of Mark Spitz rather than the spluttering, floundering of someone out of their depth. Like my Father used to say "Always look like you know what you're doing even if you don't" and I do rather well at that I think.
Since my violent projection into the life of a single man, I have known nine women (Bible terminology). The oldest was thirty five, and the youngest twenty three, I am still on drinking terms with five of them, I assume I still have the option there, But in my present state of decay my downward spiral into ill health can only exelerate unless I act now, and arrest and reverse the demise of my failing flesh. I will keep you posted, but don't expect too much.
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