"Still, at least I'll have some shocking stories to tell the other residents in the old folks home when I'm 80."
I encounter this line from time to time, spoken in response to my questioning as to whether the deceit and heartache is worth it all, written as justification for illicit liaisons and multiple duplicities.
The flaw in this reasoning, however, is that when you are old and living in the residential home for the elderly your fellow inmates won't care because:
A. They have done all the same things themselves (yes, other people have had sex too!)
B. They have gone senile
C. They assume you have gone senile
D. You never told them at all because you really have gone senile and can barely remember your own name let alone any sexual conquests and spend your time asking if anyone has seen Dave, drooling and shitting your pyjamas.
That's the thing about sex. It just doesn't last as long as you'd like, not even in retrospect. It is very much an act of the moment, fleeting, transitory. Enjoy it but don't pretend it's something you can impress others with in your twilight years. What will truly cause excited whispers and envious glances in your direction as you sit in your wipe-clean, high-backed chair is the number of people who still come to visit and remember you are alive.