It was our anniversary. I didn’t really want to go out. But she begged me until I said yes. So we dressed up fancy and drove to the W Hotel bar in downtown Austin, where we’d had our first date.
We arrived, parked, and walked into the lounge. It was still early and mostly empty. We ordered our drinks and settled into a sofa. The bar began filling up. It was mostly groups of people who knew each other – friends and co-workers.
But then a old white man strolled in, all by himself. He stood out for several reasons. His age for one thing. He was in his 70’s. Easily the oldest person in the room.
But what really made him different?
It was how he was dressed. From the waist up he looked normal. Wearing a well-fitting navy sport coat with a classy white button-down shirt.
But instead of slacks, he had on flower-patterned knee-length Bermuda shorts. In January! And that wasn’t the worst of it. Instead of loafers or maybe even sandals? He was wearing slippers. Like fluffy, comfy, white house slippers. With his toes sticking out the front.
This fucking guy.
Janelle and I looked at each other, giggling uncontrollably. But that old bastard didn’t even notice. He just breezed in like he owned the damn place. Totally solo in a room where everyone was in groups. But he wasn’t phased. He was confident and youthful and relaxed.
We watched as he strolled up the bar and ordered his drink. Then he turned around, leaned his back against the bar, and waited. At first he just stood there for a few minutes. All alone, sipping his drink.
But then the bar started to get packed. And for some reason, it was filling up with big groups of attractive older ladies. Gaggles of sexy cougars. Most seemed to be 20-30 years younger than the old guy.
And those cougars were swarming the old man! Touching him, kissing him, hugging him, laughing at his jokes, all fighting for his attention.
Janelle and I were amazed. We’d never seen a old man get that much love. Was it his height, his demeanor, or his clothing? Or maybe all three combined? Whatever it was, the ladies clearly loved this old player!
As we finished our drinks and headed out, the attention still wasn’t letting up. That old guy had more than he could handle! I didn’t see him leave; Janelle and I split before he did. But doubt he went home alone.
So I salute you old man. I’ll never know your name. But I’ll always remember how you strolled into that bar like you didn’t give a fuck – in your sport coat, Bermuda shorts, and fluffy slippers. You’re an inspiration to us all.
Read More: Banging My 18-Year-Old Stripper Roommate