Sweatin' to the Oldies

I have always attracted old men. The one and only time I made an online dating account, I promptly received 3 emails from men over 50 requesting oral sex. (And that was the end of my online dating career). When I used to work out at the Canada Games Pool, I was forever having old men wearing short shorts with no underwear, (all of whom had their socks rolled up to their knees), doing thrusting exercises within a foot of me, giving me the odd wink to ensure I was watching. It must be a pheremone thing.

For the past month, I've been receiving out-patient physio at a local hospital. Suffice to say, I am the only 26-year-old there. I am also the only one under 65. In the hospital, I was not very popular with the fellow patients, since I shared a room with an ancient woman who didn't speak English and would blockade the front of the bathroom door every time I got up to use it, making her arms into an 'X' shape and lecturing me in Chinese. At out-patient physio, however, I am Miss Universe Orthopedic 2009, due largely to the fact that I am the youngest female most of these men have spoken to in 10 years without being called 'Grandpa.' (The fact that most of my rehab involves my legs hoisted up into a sling swinging seductively in and out can't be hurting the matter either. It never fails to amaze me how much of physio involves pelvis thrusting).

Now, I don't mean to make it sound like the physio ward is full of lecherous old coots; (the physiotherapists are very good at keeping the old guys in line and most patients are nice and polite and have wives sitting beside them). I have, however, been subjected to a lot of close talking and leg patting and "my dear, you're so very interesting" and "what's a young girl like you doing in a place like this?" My favorite piece of advice, however, came from an old guy hard at work in the physio gym. It went a little something like this:

Him: It's been so hot out lately.
Me: Yeah.
Him: It's just so muggy. When I lived in Ontario, it was muggy like this.
Me: Yeah.
Him: The only thing to do when it's hot like this is lay in bed naked. When I lived in Ontario, I would just lay in bed all day naked.
Me: ......
Him: You just have to lay in bed naked all day.

I mean, you can't blame them. I'm glamour personified: the over-sized T-shirts and workout shorts, the hair loss, the slip-on rubber shoes, the rashes all over my arms, the crutches. I am a red-hot ball of hotness. And here, for your viewing pleasure, is a particularly charming glamour shot taken while I was still in the hospital. Eat your heart out, boys.

I know. Gorgeous, right?