Or, “What’s waiting behind aisle #2?”
What stops an old guy from putting on his Fruit of the Looms in a gym locker room? Too much my friends, far too much. How many times do I have to walk into my local fitness club and witness senior porn?
Putting on their socks…in the nude.
Checking phone messages…nuderama.
Going for an additional head and groin towel-off…Old McNudald.
Big arm stretch and waist twist…Bachman-Nuder Overdrive.
I leave my workouts burdened with questions:
How many things can a person who averages a dinnertime of 4:58PM do before concealing his aged jewels?
And, more intriguing, does the underwear delay occur gradually over time, with the boundaries of normalcy and common sense being pushed further toward, and then beyond, the limit with each passing decade? And, most disturbing, will it (or is it) happening to me?
Perhaps these questions should be asked by all of us men, as we blow out the candles with each passing year. “How IS your urge for blatant nudity… in a humid room surrounded by dudes?” – that question alone should be sufficient. In fact, I would argue that the standard “age markers” such as wrinkles, lack of muscle tone, gray hair, no hair, ear hair, and how close our testicles are to the toilet water while seated are all irrelevant for gauging our true age next to the aforementioned question.
When I get up there in age I may drive slow, wear outdated clothing/dark socks, complain a little too much, but I ain’t going out like that. I’m going to step out of that steamy shower in a slick motherf’n velvet Adidas lounge-wear sippin’ a White Russian. And I’ll say, to the 1st youngster who sees me, after a brief nod to my well-concealed penis, “You wish, bitch.”