My advice to my fellow wrinklies and crumblies: don’t despair. You too can become a sex god by following my example.
Your declining looks should be no obstacle to beefing up your score of lifetime amorous conquests. Just listen to me and you’ll do fine. More than fine, actually. Young women will pursue you as aggressively as in your youth you pursued them.
Pursuing is what I had to do quite a bit of when I was young and on the make. Since my short, solid frame (sometimes compared to a most unflattering garden structure) didn’t instantly recommend me to young girls’ fantasies, I had to do some work. Not always a lot, but some.
Well, no more. In the past 10 years or so, just when my interest in such adventures has waned, women have been pursuing me with unrelenting gusto. And I can tell you how that change came about.
Ten years ago I started putting my articles on Facebook, which instantly began to attract swarms of girls, most of whom didn’t seem to be my natural target audience. The minimum requirement for my readers is that they should indeed be able to read.
Yet most of those nubile lasses didn’t look as if they satisfied that requirement, even though they looked eminently capable of satisfying many others. Never mind – every day I’m contacted by dozens of such girls, each wishing to become my friend.
Judging by their messages and attached photographs, the kind of friendship they evidently have in mind won’t be based strictly on a leisurely exchange of thoughts and witticisms over a cup of tea. The friendship they offer in such a forthright manner is more sensual, not to say erotic or even – if some of their selfies are anything to go by – gynaecological.
I wonder what attracted them. My photograph? It’s doubtless flattering, but I still can’t be confused with George, or for that matter Amal, Clooney. I’d like to think that the young ladies were seduced by the style, wit and intellectual content of my prose, but that would be too presumptuous and hubristic.
One way or another, the propositions are so numerous that I can’t respond to every one individually. Nor do I wish to subject any of the young ladies to personal rejection. I remember from my younger days how traumatic that could be.
So my response has to be collective, if no less heartfelt for it. Girls, I wish I could accommodate your youthful urges, but I’m just too busy with my Rs: writing and reading, though shunning rithmetic. Moreover, I’m married, which doesn’t allow much leeway for non-stop assignations.
Accept therefore my apologies and a very respectful no in response to your flattering offers. Do keep trying though: my circumstances may change, and you never know your luck.
One request though: by all means send me selfies of your delicious bare flesh and Botoxed lips, but please refrain from trying to seduce me with closeups of your open pudenda. Call me old school or faddy-daddy, but they don’t arouse me or, if they do, it’s only in a wrong way.
So there you go. If you feel more vigorous and less squeamish than I do, join Facebook. It’ll make the wildest of your dreams come true, provided you have the energy, desire and – most important – a few quid burning a hole in your pocket.
Go for it, and do mention me in your prayers. I am, as a Bill Murray character says in one of his films, a facilitator of your dreams. And while you are at it, offer a prayer of gratitude for Facebook, the provider of this invaluable service.
P.S. I’ve attached some of the more sedate photos of my would-be friends.
P.P.S. Speaking of prostitutes, I’d happily add my name to the 750,000 signatories of the petition to revoke Tony Blair’s knighthood. Anybody know how I can do that?
Try this:
https://www.change.org/p/the-prime-minister-tony-blair-to-have-his-knight-companion-of-the-most-noble-order-of-the-garter-rescinded
Thank you Mr. Boot for this attempt at explaining the mysteries of Facebook, a phenomena which I have found incomprehensible until now.
At the time Facebook first became popular, I was a relatively young software developer and data analyst. I blame everything on that. My job required me to have access to the private health records of a few million people. The bosses were demanding, the data volume was huge, and as a result, the work was intense and exhausting, but it paid the bills. In hindsight, I fear that it left my psyche permanently warped. When everyone else was jumping on Facebook, I found myself unable to do so. I could understand people giving away all their information in exchange for better health care, a tax refund, a credit card, or a 15% discount, but I could not comprehend the Facebook/Twitter deal of providing nothing in exchange for everything.
Your article has helped me understand what Facebook is promising to give in exchange for everything, but the pictures leave me suspicious. Too good to be true. Maybe it is my over-analytical mind, but pictures of “pudenda” should be demanded to verify that the product is what it appears to be.
You were able to resist the blue hair? Astounding!
I can honestly say I have never been on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Tik-Tok and whatever other such sites might be out there. I have but a few friends and if I wish them to know something (and something more significant than what I ate for dinner) I can call them on the phone (imagine!) or send a text message or e-mail. I will never understand people who feel the need to share every detail of their lives with the entire world. I will admit laughing a bit at people who share all of their vacation news with the world only to find on returning home they have been robbed. Facebook allows dishonest people to join?
With this article Mr Boot is showing a rare level of skill. Most readers (and I include the three commenters above) will take this piece at its face value, and this I believe is the author’s intention. But actually (if my reading is right) it is only the very last sentence that is the purpose of the whole piece. It is 99% camouflage and 1% purpose! Well done, Mr Boot! I commend your purpose and join you in wishing to revoke Blair’s knighthood which, if it goes ahead, besmirches the tradition and all that it stands for.
By “revoke Blair’s knighthood”, I think you mean that Mr. Boot wants to sign the petition to strip Mr. Blair of his status as a Knight of the Garter. If that was the meaning, I would have expected the pictures to show more leg and less lips & bosom. There are so many things that I just do not understand…
Ha! When every George, Paul, and Ringo is knighted it has already lost it luster. Granted, “Tony’s” knighthood is of higher order, but that is a detail lost on most of the public (especially those of us on this side of the Atlantic).
I’ve experienced a similar phenomenon when sitting beneath the television screen – to avoid it – in my local pub. The resident lovelies appear to be unable to redirect their glances from my direction. It’s most gratifying. The fact I now seem to interest men so much, is less so.
Its the dough… they want a sugar daddy!
What, not my dashing good looks?