Lest you be concerned, the subject is over 18. I happen to draw the line at 21.
I was on a business trip in Orlando about ten years ago, so I would have been in my early thirties; from the vantage of 40+, that seems sufficiently young. The conference included a fair share of college-age pre-professionals, and some women among them, rare in my profession, but this was a regional conference, so the pros were in smaller than normal numbers since we don’t usually turn out except for training or networking with clients which were nowheres about. Unlike many similar trips, this one was fully Disneyfied and women were also represented among the grown-ups, so the strip clubs were off-limits and I didn’t invest in a rental car for the convenience an easy escape. But, as it happened, I did manage to make an acquaintance with a pair of young folks who let me feel a little less “old” than I would otherwise have felt -for a while.
Late the second evening, the “event” of the evening was a trip to the Universal Studios equivalent of Downtown Disney. We all went to dinner (I think; it’s been a while) then hit the “clubs.” That’s where things got interesting. She was under 21, so admission to the club was unlawful. So, I got asked to help with admission, as it were. How does a guy over 30 accomplish this? You get uncomfortably close to the woman under 21. That, BTW, is kinda fun, but only slightly better than a lap dance. From my present vantage, it reminds me of dancing with other men’s wives: temporary thrill with a hard-core letdown at the end of the tune.
And so it went with this apparent hook-up couple. There wasn’t anything to be had once I got her through the door, which was to be expected and for which I won’t fault her or him. Still, it stung a little all the same, and drove home to me that I was no longer a youth. The story of “Young Dr. Sade” had come to an abrupt and harsh end.