E-MAIL: rexbreathes@hotmail.com
Geriatric sex. That’s when two people, who should be wearing bags over their heads to hide the ones under their eyes, decide to rub wrinkles together. I know it’s a frightening thought. As the median age nationwide advances from 32.8 years in 1990, to 34.9 (call it 35) in 1997, GS is something we’re gonna have to face sooner or later.
In Oregon, the seventh oldest state in America, where the median age is 36.6 (round up to 37), they’re facing Geriatric Sex sooner. Of course, yours truly is part of the problem, so you should take everything I write with a handful of vitamins and a couple Viagra. And, I’m under the added pressure of deadline, or dying... which ever comes first.
In case you haven’t noticed, we’re getting a lot older and none wiser in Oregon and everywhere else (except California). As we become a Viagra Nation, I’m sure there will be a whole cottage industry springing up to support the special needs of Geriatric Sex. Yeah. Sexy walkers. Convertible canes that can double as dildos and vibrators. Special nursing services for the man who can’t walk, is half blind and doesn’t remember a thing, but he’s got a Viagra woody like no tomorrow.
Way back when I was a kiddo, the thought of my parents “doing it” made me wince.
Now that I’m past the age that my parents were when I was wincing, I’m crawling into the category of Needs a Little Convincing. As Dan Deprez – another one of our age impaired writers at Exotic – pointed out in his last column: It’s a slippery slope from stud muffin to one of those guys hanging out on the Internet, typing as fast as he can with one hand. You reach a point where you start to become invisible to the opposite sex. It’s like you no longer look like food to them. Or maybe you do, but you’re a little bit spoiled, overripe, too close to being tossed in the garbage. A new Porsche, American Express card and celeb status might help Jerry Seinfeld bag a 19 year old ex call girl in Australia, or Bruce Willis get down with his 21 year old gal pal/co-star, Liv Tyler, in Cannes, but will they stick around after the novelty of sex with really old people wears off? Bruce already knows the answer to that timeless question; that’s why he went crawling back to his Demi-whore. Aging is the Armageddon that we all must face.
Lately there’s been a sign hanging above my door that says: The doctor is in; only really sick women may enter. Maybe they’ve always been that way, but when I was younger, I just didn’t notice... as much. Or maybe that’s just what happens when you cross that invisible line into invisible land... Only the sick ones can still see ya. It’s sort of like they’re looking for a father, a psychiatrist and a soft, old punching bag rolled into one. Not that I mind; a little abuse goes a long way. And a writer’s got to keep his edge. Grist for the mill.
But something more really needs to be done, besides Viagra and the Internet adult sites, otherwise we’re going to have nothing but an aging population of men typing with one hand as fast as they can on the interactive, live-sex-teenage-nympho sites. That’s why I believe a cottage cheese industry for Geriatric Sex is coming any day now... coming like a creaky old mile long freight train, carrying decades of angst, rounding the bend at five miles an hour.
Of course, down in California, where the mean age is 33, fourth youngest in the U.S., you don’t have that problem. But with all the movie stars and movie star wanna-be’s lying to the census takers about their age, you have to wonder if that’s an enhanced figure. Are census takers, who are low on wages and light on training, really going to stop and recalculate when the actress reports her age as 33... and the census taker swears he saw her in a failed sitcom that aired fifteen years ago, where she played the alien mother of two chimpanzees (Yes, We Have No Bananas)? Be that as it may, with a lean mean age of 33 in California, the challenges and social ramifications of Geriatric Sex can be avoided on Fantasy Island till people are well into their sixties. By then, everyone will be so concerned about the water shortage, finding a place to smoke or commuting in under three hours (helicopters, roller jet blades, rickshaws) that sex will be the last thing on their minds. Besides, sex for Californians is more like a currency exchange then an actual social interaction. And old money spends just as good as new.
Carrot juice for breakfast, work-outs after supper, alpha hydroxy before bed, my future’s so fucking bright, I can’t see it without my glasses on. PS: The doctor is in, for all you sick women who can still see me.
Next Month: Is control freak Barbara Streisand Pamela Lee’s soon-to-be mother in-law from hell? And could Steve Tyler be moonlighting as Bruce Willis’ father in in-law? would Steve let Bruce sit in on harp with Aerosmith on tour? In your dreams, Bruce. Better buy Demi a third world country instead of a lousy little town in (her own private) Idaho.