There’s a time-worn adage about buying a used car: It’s not the age; it’s the mileage. It’s a truism I’ve taken to heart recently after discovering it applies just as aptly to living creatures.
We tend to think age equates with powering down life, shedding our enthusiasms, settling into a comfortable moribund stage while we await the inevitable visit from the Reaper. It’s presumptuous, it’s wrong-headed, it’s just stupid.
I have a dog who has reached the vintage old age (for a dog) of twelve. Since the beginning of the year I’d noticed her getting less active, more content to climb up onto a comfortable couch or chair and snooze away the day.
I just assumed Libby had reached that point in her life, that one that falls into the category of “she’s just old.” Big mistake.
Some changes in her bowel movements and her gums – they turned gray – prompted a trip to the vet. A few tests, an X-ray and a sonogram revealed she had a slight bleed in her small intestine and that had caused anemia. A week’s worth of meds and some iron and vitamin supplements, and now I’ve got an overgrown puppy on my hands. And she wants to play – all the time. I may not survive her recovery, but it’s good to see her run around and play like she did when she was a pup.
It was an epiphany of sorts, for me. Don’t we all tend to write off a change in behavior and enthusiasm to age? Don’t we expect passion to fade, enthusiasm to wane, and most tragically, our sex drives to dwindle?
Worse, don’t we also tend to tut-tut efforts and products intended to stave off as long as possible the inevitable – even if it isn’t all that inevitable.
I admit I’ve made fun of the Viagra and Cialis commercials, but really, there’s something admirable in a willing spirit trying to re-fortify flagging flesh, and if that includes relying on chemical aids, go for it.
(Of course, I’m still puzzled at the significance of the twin bathtubs in the Cialis ads.)
But rather than admire the gentleman who wants to continue to share a vital physical relationship with the love of his life, more often he’s ridiculed as pathetic.
A newspaper columnist who I have always suspected has her head firmly stuck up her ass, even decried Viagra and drugs of its ilk as a dirty trick played on women. Her reasoning: Women of vintage years have earned the right to be left alone by their men.
Makes me wonder if she’s memorized every crack on her bedroom ceiling.
And what a presumption, that women have no interest in sex beyond the minimum age for joining AARP. Is that true, ladies? Are you looking forward to your golden years just so you won’t be bothered by the randy old buck rutting all over the house?
The baby boomers are about to tumble like oranges into that crate marked ‘old age’, I among them. We’re the ones who allegedly fomented the sexual revolution. Are we really ready to go gently into the coddling but stale state of warehousing? The most rebellious generation in history? Don’t think so.
Our children and grandchildren might have to adjust to nana and grampa getting it on. Or maybe nana getting it on with someone else’s grampa. There have already been reports of families outraged to find their granny carrying on a sexual affair in the nursing home.
Old folks just aren’t supposed to behave like that!
Really. Where is that written?
And besides, how many opportunities do you have to shock your kids?
Maybe what we need is another Kinsey-type report, focusing on seniors and near-seniors. My bet is they’ll find a population simmering in sensuality, perhaps longing for the stamina of their youth, but making out all right (no pun intended) just the same.
Long past the age of consent, they don’t need someone telling them they aren’t supposed to be looking to satisfy their sexual needs. In other words, “Act your age.”
Maybe there’s an entrepreneur out there somewhere who’s already looking beyond your standard nursing home or assisted-living facility, a place where randy seniors can get it on just like adults.
Maybe someone’s working out a Hoveround with a rumble seat.
Attitudes are going to change – they have to. There are just too many of us as the pig makes its way to the end of the python. Not all of us will be content to conform to the traditional idea of what it’s like to “be old.”
Senior erotica? Bet on it.
Senior sex scandals? I hope so. Damn, I hope I’m involved.
Being old isn’t the same as being dead. Lots and lots of miles left. Don’t waste them.
Gotta sign off now. Libby’s pawing me and looking longingly at her leash. She wants to go out. She wants me to take the ball. She wants to check out that handsome two-year old German shepherd in the park.
It’s a long life; better take good care of yourself.
Robert Buckley
December ’09 – January ’10
“Cracking Foxy” © 2009 Robert Buckley. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written