Apparently, I'm in a picking on old mood.
Okay oldies, we get it. You are well past the age where the majority of the world finds you attractive but you are still sexually active. Good for you! I'm glad that you and dear old grandpa are still pounding it out between the sheets but do me a favor, spare me the details.
I theorize that there is a component in the human mind that fails or deteriorates around age 50. Internally I believe that most of us are built with sensors that tell us when people around us are feeling uncomfortable. If we are being insulting with racially insensitive comments, sexist slurs or generally disrespectful digressions, most of us get an inkling when someone isn't quite feeling what we are putting down. But this does not happen in the mind of the 50 plus individual. As I stated earlier, old people are immune to recognizing an awkward moment.
Call me a prude, but I don't want to hear about anyone's sex life. I realize that my parents had to have sex for me to be here but I'd like to believe that all my parents did was sit in their bed and hug until the power of their love made me pop to life inside my mom's tummy.
If I'm not interested in the sexual exploits of young hard bodied good looking people then I am doubly uninterested in hearing about the sex lives of older people. I am therefore exponentially uninterested (read:scared) of hearing about the sexual wants and desires of old people that I am related to. For the record, I am an equal opportunity despiser of stories. Whether my mother in law is specifying her length and girth requirements or my father is getting naughty with his facebook harem of kinky old ladies, I don't want to know. It isn't that I think that old people are undeserving of love I just don't want to be haunted with an image of my relatives "Oh face" when we're sitting down for Sunday dinner.
Dear oldies, I know that you are old and less talented at everything but you don't have to embarrass your children and loved ones. I used to take my moms car out and do spins in the snow and go street racing, but when I came home I had the decency to lie to her and tell her I drove like a complete gentleman. When she asked why the rotors where red hot and the car smelled like burning transmission I said "I dunno." She suspected the truth was a little different from what I told her, but the car wasn't smashed and I wasn't dead. If I happen to find your bottle of Viagra for the love of god just tell me that they are back pills or blood pressure pills or any other type of pill than a pill that aids the proper functioning of your dick.
