For those who saw this post earlier, I've gone back and rephrased it, because I didn't like the tone. It sounded more stuck-up than funny.
Maybe it's the haircut. Today a man started flirting with me in Barnes & Noble, and that never happens. He wasn't my type - if you're well over 60 you better be a ringer for Harrison Ford, or better yet, BE Harrison Ford. The first time a man over 60 hit on me, I was truly wounded - how old does he think I AM, anyway? A male friend explained it thusly: To a man that age, I am a hot young babe at 48. The 48 year olds all want/think they actually have a chance at getting 28 year old Pilates instructors, preferably Latina. I've come to understand that he spoke truth. So I have gotten used to the idea that the men who try to pick me up in bookstores or anywhere else will be "Older," and I've decided I'm okay with this, but I still draw the line at "Older than Cousin C." Unless he's Sean Connery or an excellent facsimile thereof.
Maybe after I color it I'll get hit on by the ones who aren't on Social Security yet. Naah, not likely. (He can be an AARP member, but not collecting SS yet - I do have standards.) ;-)