My Old Friend Says That I Am GILF

“Sleeping with a man half your age can be exhausting, but if it’s too much for him you can always find a younger man.”

― Barbara Taylor Bradford, Playing the Game

Trigger warning: this one has curse words.

What?

One of the fun things about going to weddings is meeting up with friends. At one of the latest weddings, one of my oldest friends called me a GILF. Now I knew what MILF meant — Mother I Would Like to Fuck — but I did not know what a GILF was. I suspected, but I did not know for sure, so I asked.

My friend smiled and said, “Excuse my French, but it means a Grandmother I Would Like to Fuck.” She quickly added that it was not meant as an insult, but a compliment.

She pointed out I was aging like a vampire: no crow’s feet or deep wrinkles in my face. My hair was deep brown with some tasty gray in it. I had not gained as much weight as others in my age group. I appeared to be in better-than-average physical condition based on how often I had been out on the dance floor with my hubby.

I replied I had been approached in the last few years by young men wanting to be my daddy. I was sixty.

A Chance Encounter

I related the story of a 7–11 convenience store I visited in Marietta, GA, on my way to the hotel from a wedding. The owner offered me a job on the spot, doubling whatever I was making at my job. He liked my hair, saying his sister had the same light brown hair I did.

He told me he was 28 and owned four 7–11’s, several cars, and a delightful house. The only thing missing was someone to help him enjoy it. What would it take to get me to “work” for him? The word “work” was said with a sly smile and a glint in his eye.

I told him I made six figures, so he could not possibly afford me. He handed me his card, which I took. He leaned over the counter and said, “Life is filled with change and uncertainty; no one knows what the future could bring.” I did not have to pay. The items I had placed on the counter were free. I thanked him and walked out, slowly, letting my backside do its thing.

I immediately told my spouse as we pulled away from the store. His comment was something about “That is what I got for looking good on a Friday night. We all know young men are horny.” We laughed. I handed him the card to examine at a stoplight. He accidentally flipped it out his window as he drove through the intersection.

The Book Store

Then I told my friend that recently, as I have been browsing in the bookstore, I have been asked by men much older than myself if they could just kiss me on the cheek. No, you cannot kiss my cheek, but you are welcome to kiss my hand. One man was accompanied by his daughter, who was embarrassed. She said he asked any women he liked if he could kiss them. About 50% of the time, he got the kiss because he was ancient and very charming.

I don’t think I mind being a GILF, although that was not what I was trying to achieve. I’m trying to live as long as I can. I intend to be active, attractive, and feel good most days. The exercise, the face creams, the vitamins, the tailored clothing, the healthy eating (most of the time), and the doctor’s visits are all done by me for me. I am trying to keep me sane and happy.

I will keep on doing the best I can to enjoy my life. If being a GILF is part of it, so be it.

Published: Feb 18, 2023 on Medium.com

https://medium.com/sexography/no-one-wants-to-be-dicked-down-for-five-hours-797e6ce106f5