You can test ride my wheelchair anytime

It is very possible on Saturday that I had an ambivalent and yet clumsy fluster flirtation with a boy much, much younger than I am. Let's give me the benefit of the doubt and say he was 19. He was scooping my ice cream, and I was fiddling with my wallet, and we kept locking eyes and dropping things: the check, his pen, my napkin, followed by nervous, stilted laughter. When he came around the counter to pick something up for me, I saw life flash before my eyes: Me at 75, Botoxed lips and cracked skin, egging on my teenaged waiter with a wink and a gravely voice: Go on, handsome, no one will notice the vodka.