WHEN I’M 64

Ha. I bet the Beatles are absolutely RUEING the day they wrote that song. Because they are all way older than 64 now. And I also wager that they now wish they were so lucky as to be 64, because 64 is the new 40.

Just to be clear, being in one’s 60’s is no picnic. No sir. Things start happening when you turn 60. Sagging things. Aching things. Blurry things. It is all so unfair, really—because just when you get all that wisdom, nobody really wants to listen to you anymore, because you are so wrinkly and disgusting, and you can’t hear that well, either.

The wisdom is very valuable, however. Because the youth in their callowness just don’t get it. They think it is all about sex and cardiovascular fitness. So as a public service to all of the young people out there, I will share some of my astuteness, gained in my years in the trenches of life. But I am keeping the really good stuff to myself.

First off, it is true that most men, after they divorce, go after younger women. This is because men are entrusted with the responsibility of perpetuating the species. This sounds plausible, because it was invented by some male evolutionary biologist. In actuality, men just like boobs. And young boobs trump old boobs every time. For some reason, very few older divorced women get to attach themselves to young men. Is this because the male sexual organ points downwards and is unaffected by the gravitational pull? Thus looking the same at 30 that it does at 65? I cannot say. But seriously–it is completely unfair that men in their 30’s are rarely attracted to women like me.

Money trumps sex. This is obvious when you look in the paper at Rupert Murdoch’s red haired wife (or ex-wife; it’s confusing). Of course, we call those wives “trophies.” When the situation is reversed, we call those young men “gigolos.” Maybe gigolo means trophy in Italian, but I doubt it.

You have to drink a lot of water to avoid dry skin. And wrinkles. Wait. This is so not true. If it were, there would be no such thing as plastic surgeons. Throw away the Nalgene.

Women who think that they look good with gray hair are not “silver foxes.” They are deluded. Gray hair ages you. (see “gigolo,” above). With nice strong brown or blond hair, you stand a fighting chance of getting a date with a male that doesn’t dodder. Otherwise (see “gigolo,” above).

Technology is for the young. So by God, get an iPhone. Throw on some apps. Take a lot of pictures of yourself (selfies are in) and post them on Instagram. First, find out what Instagram is. And don’t download Candy Crush, because if you do, you will never leave your room.

If you are a woman, wear your age with pride. Yeah. And wear Spanx.

If you are a man, remember that you will most likely die before your wife. Especially if you have one of those trophy ones. But even with a standard issue wife, you are way behind in the actuarial tables. So put that in your pipe and smoke it. Those cruise brochures? For widows and honeymooners. The truth is true.

We all will die someday. In the meantime, don’t forget to stop and smell the roses. Don’t bend down too far, or there may be some trouble with that hip. And just think. In ten years, 74 will be the new 50. And the remaining Beatles will both have wives in their teens.

 

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