THE TRUTH ABOUT OLD MEN - Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

The first draft of this illuminating look at old men contained a chapter on how a woman can locate a suitable old man for romance. Upon reading it, a female friend asked a question that resulted in its deletion. She said, "Who would care?"

Clearly, we failed miserably to establish adequate value for old men in the chapters, so let's outline the old man's dating regimen and begin with the caveat that no one is qualified to be a "significant other" to an old man without, first, meeting certain requirements herself. High on the list is failing vision. She must survey the sagging countenance of the old man through squinted eyes. Secondarily, the ability to apply substantial imagination to what she sees through the squint is also an important property on the resume of any woman hoping to snare the old man.

This information should be of benefit in the composition of a woman's profile for posting on the dating sites, and the dating sites are highly recommended for anyone hunting the old man as he is not likely to be seen roaming at large on the dating landscape.

On random occasions, he may have felt the youth and vitality he is missing could be recaptured by some time spent in a nightclub. He may have done his best to arrange what is left of his hair properly, given himself a clean shave and purchased some trendy clothes to make an appearance in some place where people collect to dance and enjoy music. He may have poured hot wax in both ears so that what passes for music in these places does not soil his brain.

At first, he may be discouraged at the front door by the smirk on the face of the 12-year old bouncer during the obligatory ID check. But once inside, several unsavory things relegate the indignation at the door to the status of minor annoyance.

As he makes his initial reconnoiter of the room he notices himself drawing interest he had not anticipated. He believes the female glances he is enjoying spring from an interest in older men. He has heard about this propensity among young ladies, this desire for the companionship of older gentlemen, but it has not yet occurred to him such women do not go hunting older men in places where people dance and listen to music. Interested women are merely wondering why he has come to this place and what he expects to do there.

The old man also draws interest from a few of the younger men at the nightclub. He presumes they envy his maturity and calculated luster. These men who give him a second glance can be separated into various categories -- some believe he is a policeman, some suspect he owns the place, some are gay and looking for a new daddy and the rest are considering rolling him in the parking lot.

Following a once-around of the room, the old man locates a place at the bar where he can order a drink. He asks for a martini, but changes his order when asked by the bartender what a martini is. "I'll have a fuzzy navel," he says. Before he leaves the stool he samples several other offerings and finds they all have one thing in common -- all are without any significant alcoholic content. The owner of the establishment considers the low alcoholic content a public service. The old man believes it is criminal misrepresentation, but will avoid saying as much.

As he occupies his perch at the bar, the old man analyzes the tattooed, pierced female members of the throng. Quickly he realizes this examination requires greater scrutiny than it once did, because a closer look reveals a high percentage of them are not females at all. Still, he does not believe it would be entirely accurate to describe them as men either.

Soon enough, the old man settles on a young woman who has glanced at him twice, slides off his stool and tosses a few bills on the bar he believes will more than cover the cost of the drinks. The bartender corrects him, explaining he owes at least twice as much as was tossed upon the bar. "Uh...I thought that was a twenty," he explains, augmenting the fortune he has already offered. He departs the bar thinking it would be nice to have a little buzz in return for the six drinks he has purchased, but he is in no mood to object as his frying pan is hot and there are larger fish to fry.

He smiles at her, and she says, "Hi."

"I wish I were," he remarks, but the humorous reference to the absence of alcohol in the drinks is lost on her.

He tells her he likes her tattoo.

"Which one?" she asks.

He points to the design on her neck and says, "The angry little squirrel."

"That's a komodo dragon," she tells him. "They come from Japan."

"Aha," he says. "Actually, the komodo dragon is indigenous to the islands of Indonesia. They can grow to ten feet long and weigh as much as 250 pounds. The komodo is the largest lizard in the world."

She stares at him blankly. "It's not a lizard," she says.

"Well...uh...what is it then?"

"It's a dragon," she says. "Duh."

She accepts his offer to buy her a drink, and he resists the temptation to order Kool Aid, thinking she might find it a reference to her age rather than a commentary on the lack of alcoholic content in what passes for cocktails at the club.

He asks if she comes to the disco often, and she asks what a disco is. Desperately looking for some conversational correspondence, he tries politics, mentioning the new Obama administration and asking if the election went her way. "I guess," she tells him. "I didn't vote this time."

"Are you happy to see George Bush go?"

"Who’s George Bush?" she asks.

The old man can't resist a chuckle. "Without George Bush," he says, "911 would have been just the beginning."

"Well, I think we need all the emergency numbers we can get?" she tells him.

Despite their lack of common ground, she almost snuggles against him as they speak, and the old man's confidence that she finds him attractive is encouraged. When he suggests they find a quieter place to talk she agrees and even suggests her place. Soon they are on the sidewalk outside, and the din of "the disco" has died.

As he digs the wax out of his ears with a fingernail, he asks where her place is located.

"First the money," she says. And then, as if reading from a Christmas shopping list, she runs down the various acts she is willing to perform and the price per each.

Crestfallen and deflated, he explains that he does not pay people for sex, and to this she says, "Well, how the fuck do you expect to get it?"

This is why capturing the old man depends upon a woman's willingness to list her profile on a senior dating site. The only other realistic option can be found in the phone book under "VFW." We are recommending the Internet.