smooth as the handle on a gun, cool as a cucumber
some older women like much younger men
and cheap sex is always cheap
and a slut is always a slut
You might be aware that I just got back to the garret after a short sunshine break in Turkey. It was good for me, except that being a solitary traveller I had lots of time to indulge in some people watching, and the people I saw were not always the best advertisements for the male species. Overweight, unfit, beer gut, waddling, loud, interested mostly in booze and sports ~ too unfit to be much turned on by sex. They were mostly British, Germans, and Turks, but much the same could be said of American guys.
I looked at myself in the mirror. A long hard look, and I could see myself heading in that direction. Do I want to be a couch potato, an Archie Bunker, a fat loudmouthed beer-bottle slob? And Fuck No!
As men get older, as the testosterone leaches out of the bloodstream, as the achievements of our youth are behind us, it’s easy for men to let themselves go to seed. To watch too much TV, to drive rather than walk, to drink too much, to overfill our plates and gobble our food, to converse in grunts, to lose interest in sex….. No wonder there are lots of MILF’s and GILF’s out there. I may not approve, but I understand. Even James Bond got fat and carried a man-bag. Wazzock.
Ergo, I went up the mountain and talked with the elephant, and didn’t much like what she told me. ‘Get your act together…..’
No more beer, no more booze, no more burgers, no more take-outs, less sugar, less salt, more green vegetables, more exercise, more interest in women.
I look out across the sea today, and see the old castle where my ancestors fought. Saw the priests on the ferry taking the dead home, see their wives glad they’ve gone, see the priests fussing and flapping like a murder of crows wondering if they will get paid. See the fat men dying without even that honour. Their ghosts just trudging away, heavy footed.
If I have my way I’ll take a boat back from the river. I don’t care what it takes, it’s better to be poor, fit, and healthy than be a rich fat man trying to get through the eye of the needle.
Some say that once you get to be forty it’s all downhill to the grave. And that fat pale men with beer-bellies shouldn’t be with attractive women. All I know is I’m going to be the great guy with a good body relaxing by the pool, anywhere I want to be, with anyone I want to be with. And if you don’t want to be there, fuck off and have a nice day. I ain’t afraid of no Charon
don’t pay the ferryman until you must