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An eighty-four-year-old man is sitting on a park bench, sobbing. A young man, walking by, stops. "What's wrong?" he asks. "I'm in love with a twenty-two-year-old woman," the old man answers though his tears. "I can see where that would be tough," says the other. "You don't understand," he answers between his sobs and sniffles. "Every morning before she goes to work, we make love. At lunchtime, she comes home and we make love again, and then she makes my favorite meal. In the afternoon when she gets a break, she rushes home and gives me oral sex, the best any man, young or old, could wish for. And then, before supper and all night long, we make love." He breaks down, no longer able to speak. The young man puts his arm around him. "I don't understand," he says. "It sounds like you have the perfect life. Why are you crying?" "Because," answers the senile old man through his tears, "I forgot where I live." |
