Even Bagwine Ages

Forty-Three years old.

I feel it sometimes. Sore back, pulled hamstrings, and ever lowering nut sack.

And of course, what little hair I do have is turning gray.

My gums, inherited from my mother, are receding more quickly than Lindsay Lohan downing a fifth of vodka.

Dentures are in my very near future.

Also, even though I weigh 2 pounds less than when I was a senior in High School…boy is my body…well…LOOSE!!

I can live with all that I guess. It’s who I am, and I am not going to take measures to stem the tide of aging.

But…

I have noticed something far more disturbing as I near the mid-point of my fourth decade.

I am becoming an old man, not in the sense of a hateful, grumpy, kinda guy, but more in terms of how I look and react to certain things.

For instance…This past May, the uber-lovely Dana posted a HNT shot. The picture showed some blonde streaks in her hair.

Bespectled and displaying a tantalizing bit of cleavage, my comment involved telling Dana how much I liked the highlights in her hair.

Last HNT, the sexy Biscuit, posted a picture of herself in her bathtub.

Now don’t get me wrong, I liked what I saw, but my main thought was, “How did she capture the lighting with her camera so well?”

I am either getting old…or getting gay.

My version of internet porn consists of getting on restaurant websites and looking at their menus and food pictures.

It was awkward at first, but now I have no qualms about jacking off fast and furiously to greasy dive websites that specialize in ginormous burgers and chili dogs.

I can have my meat and eat it too, I guess.

I am quicker with the fuck-yous to the general public now, as well. I have lost my filter.

A couple of weeks ago, while working a rare day shift, a gaggle of High School aged girls were attempting to cut through my drive-thru.

When I said they couldn’t do that, one of the girls said, “That’s gay.” To which I replied, “So’s your old man, princess.”

Ha. I guess aging does have some advantages, because telling that little punk off was fun…

And, I think the older one gets the sex gets better as well. I mean, if you can move your attention beyond the highlights in the hair and the cinematic photography lighting.

I may not post an HNT tomorrow.

I mean what’s left to see?

I have no cleavage, no boobs, no Hoo-Ha…and no, I will not ever show the Matt-Meat.

(Well except for that time I starred in the classic, incestuous, period porn piece inspired by Emily Bronte called, "Motheirng Heights." I was young...I needed the money.)

Does that mean that I am getting old?

Cheers!!