Saturday morning and I headed downtown London to the summer market. As you journey through life and different age settings in one's life, your observation point changes. It's probably easier to explain through this little bus story. Being retired, my level of physical visibility has decreased. I have had people walk right into me on several occasions. They quickly apologize and say, "Sorry, I didn't see you." So, here we are on the bus heading downtown with three older men on board, plus myself. Toward the front of the bus, three young women boarded. They were getting back from a night of partying. They had on short dresses and low-cut tops revealing quite a bit of cleavage, plus bar-style high heels. I thought their hair and make-up probably looked better the evening before.
The atmosphere on the bus was dead quiet. We older men very seldomly converse, except for a nod or a small conversation about the weather. However, the young women had to get caught up with the excitement from last night. Two of the girls spoke in hushed tones, but the third girl had a loud voice that seemed to carry. When she laughed, it was deep and heartfelt. Soon the other girls felt safe and began speaking loudly as their stories ramped up.
We older me seem non-reactionary with our heads down and the baseball hats covering our faces. I'm trying to understand the mechanism that makes people feel safe around more senior people. Is it because they know their secrets are safe? Is it because older people are indifferent to them? Or is there so much distance between them they can't identify with what they are going through or saying? Maybe I'm not even asking the right question because I have a lot to learn yet? Anyway, it would seem the girls got lucky last night, and the stories were rolling out. The prettiest girl, also the loudest, had the most captivating story. She had the most excellent and most handsome guy. She said, "He was so gentle." She demonstrated swaying her arms and head as if those were his arms, moving slowly over her body. Then she said, "He ate me out and made me cum four times." She slightly spread her legs and made as if she was having an orgasm right on the bus. Meanwhile, us older men are giving each other the eye, thinking, "These stories are hilarious."
But anyway, the girls reached their bus stop and were departing. Before they got off, I yelled out, "We liked your stories!!!" All of us men came alive with laughter. Even the bus driver had a big barrel laugh, and I didn't realize he listened. The departing prettiest girl did little stompy things with her high heels in protest. She was so cute and sweet when she did that. It was beautiful to hear those stories, and in a way, at least I'm glad they thought I was invisible.