Optics play quite a role in getting old. If you look old you are perceived and treated as old and this, Gentle Reader, is indeed a mixed blessing. On one hand, you are likely to get the seniors' discounts and a seat on the bus (believe me when I say this, there are still kind people on the planet and many of them are young and ride the bus). On the other hand you are more likely to be disregarded as a know nothing dinosaur or an old fart who shouldn't be taken seriously. Some people seem to think I'm younger, but either they're lying or their prescription glasses need upgrading. Even eight years ago or so, while I was running for the bus, someone yelled at me "You're going to get a heart attack!" and I replied that I'm not that old.
I am reminded of a cartoon that used to appear in the Globe and Mail, Fisher, before the author decided to pull it. It featured the protagonist, now securely middle aged, flirting with a young woman serving him in a coffee shop. Just when he's getting all damp and turned on by her effusive friendliness she drops the bomb and tells him how much he reminds her exactly of her dear beloved dad. His face in the last panel has to be one of the saddest images I have ever seen on the comic pages.
Whenever a young person appears to like me I try to remember that little comic strip. This isn't to suggest that I am so ugly and over the hill and, yes, there are young people who are attracted to older people and not always for their money, but not quite so many as some older people would care to imagine.
The fact of the matter is, if a young person expresses interest in my friendship and appears to really enjoy being around me, to actually delight in having me around, I take especial care to respect the optics. Even if this person might be attracted to me I am more than likely standing in for their father, perhaps even their grandfather, or a beloved teacher, or a favourite actor, or they just really like me as a person. There is no way I would even think of jeopardising the equation by assuming that I am being viewed with bedroom eyes. Maybe I am, but likely not and I would prefer to honour the social contract of being kind to young people as an older friend, perhaps a mentor and nothing else.
I refuse to act or look any younger than I am for one simple reason. It looks ridiculous and I don't want to be ridiculous. It isn't that I particularly want to be taken seriously but I have seen older people who glom onto younger people for their little youth fix. I don't know what, if anything, goes on behind closed doors and this is something I don't want to know. But whenever the possibility appears to be arising of a young person wanting to lure me into bed with them I simply remember a seen from the Pedro Almodovar film Broken Embraces. The character played by Penelope Cruz is a young woman involved with a tycoon old enough to be her grandfather. They have just had sex with each other and the old goat looks so serene and satisfied, blissed out in a geriatric post-coital seventh heaven. The Penelope Cruz character gets out of bed, locks herself in the bathroom and vomits into the toilet.
I do take care to not forget that image. It helps me stay humble and I hope it will make me wise.
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