I’ve still got it. That animal attraction to the female of the species that causes them to swoon at the very mention of my name. How else can you explain this reply to a post I made this morning on X, formerly known as twitter? ‘Cora’ says this:
“Looking for a connection that sets my heart on fire! Young and beautiful girl seeking a soulmate. Don’t miss your chance for love! Click bio! “
I must say that Cora does seem to be a pretty girl (see above), although I am not tempted to click on her bio just in case she wants to empty my bank account – not that I’d notice the difference post Christmas – or if it leads me to a part of the internet that could lead me to have problems with the agents of the law. After all, there are a lot of perverts out there and I’d hate to have myself paraded alongside some of the worst ones, or even the best ones for that matter.
I very much doubt whether @Cora39739569179 is a real person at all. For all I know, she’s merely an image to promote the grifting of dubious internet fraudsters by flattering senior males into thinking the charms of their youth – if they actually had any – still work today. I have long recognised, sadly, that whatever charms I may have possessed have long disappeared. I do not want to be the oldest swinger in town.
Behind all this is a simple truth, the one that says growing old, which still beats the alternative, brings with it few benefits. Advancing old age brings with it the inevitable decrepitude that you simply cannot avoid. The other night, I had to run for a bus in order to avoid having to wait for another half and hour in the wind and rain for another one and by the time I got on I felt ready to be admitted to the local Intensive Care Unit (ICU), as my creaking ankles and knees expressed their disgust. “Look at that asthmatic old fool,” felt everyone else on the bus, inwardly laughing at this crocked old member of the geriocracy.
Cora, if she was real, would not have been impressed and certainly would not have been expecting me to set her heart on fire. That “chance for love” was already over.
But Cora isn’t real and I am not fooling myself, nor even wanting to fool myself. I’ve done what I always do with these imaginary people who are inevitably “looking for love” by blocking her, or quite possibly him, who might be a Rab C Nesbitt lookalike with a bulging bank account brought about by sad old men who fall for this bullshit.
Nice try, love. Now where are my Werthers?
