I once worked in a nursing home. One of the ladies had the hots for me something bad. One day in the common room, she put her hand on my thigh and said "nice jeans". Then she slid it higher, and said "nice crotch".
A nearby nurse sighed and said: "Karen, how old is it you are again?"
"You're a hundred and two."
"I'm a HUNDRED AND TWO years old?!"
And she was. She died next year, a hundred and three, apparently still a virgin.
Story was she had been scared off men by her mother, and in her old age she had had woefully regretted it.
I guess the moral is, listen to your parents, but don't take everything as gospel.
Maybe I should have helped her fulfil her wish, but I was fearful the the management would see it as taking advantage...
Featured comment by Laurie:
I work part-time in a gym, and work out there. I don't want to keep harping about my hair, but a few days ago an elderly patron in his 70's started chatting with me while I was working out. He squinted his eyes and looked at me and said, "I really like your hair." The thought flashed instantaneously through my mind, "dirty old man." Then, just as quickly, I thought of the Domai philosophy. I also saw how I also love my hair. I smiled at the man, a real genuine turn it all on joyful smile, and we both parted happy.
Later I had a fantastic conversation with this man. He spends his whole week doing nice things for other people, like picking up day-old bread at the supermarket at 6 in the morning, and delivering it to families, and singing in a group with other old men in local nursing homes. He also spends his time commenting on women's beautiful hair. All's right with the world.