A married woman I know slightly came up to me at a party and began chatting. After a while she got to the personal. "So, are you dating anyone?"
I was a bit surprised at this question. But, I'm resigned to the fact that the manners of my youth are long gone, buried in the 'faded memories cemetery' next to the grave of the last pantyhose in America. "No, not really. But, " I said, thinking of my ice dance coach, "I pay a 28 year old man 50 dollars every week to hold my hand for an hour."
Her eyes widen in shock. Then she hunched closer to me, "So, how can I get some of that?"