I am 70 years old.
I am not crazy about getting older, but given the alternatives, I have been rather comfortable with the thought. Probably because I do not consider myself old.
Today I was leaving a restaurant and happened to be walking behind a young woman that was a 15 on a scale of 1 - 10, wearing extremely tight jeans and sweater, both of which had caught my attention. Suddenly I was struck by the fact that I was looking at her not with lust, but rather as one would look at a piece of art. Disconcerting, but not devastating.
Until, upon reaching the door, she held it open for me.
Depression is a terrible thing.