Hi, my name is Tom, (or Dick, or Harry).
I just turned seventy and I’m alone in life.
I’m in great shape, except that my
fears of commitment have hardened like
another man’s arteries.
I guess that’s the Big C that I’m afraid of.
I had several great girlfriends, but they all
fell in love with me and wanted to get married.
I could never take that step, and now I regret it,
as all my friends told me I would, for what woman
wants an old fart like me now, even if I do still work out
and drive a convertible?
I’m more hunched over than I used to be,
and the girls don’t flirt with me like they used to.
I guess I’ll just go work in my yard or
fix my leaking toilet,
keep myself busy,
remember what might have been
if I hadn’t been such a