mack daddies don't get old...they just marinate

today i'm walking into the grocery store and i reach down to pick up a "only in here to get a few things" basket when i i hear this cheery baritone voice to the back of me. i turn around and glimpse an older black gentleman waving goodbye to one of the employees of the store. i didn't see much of his face, and really wasn't trying to, as i wanted to get in and out of the store, so i turned quickly after grabbing my basket and headed inside.

later, as i'm driving home, i notice an older man walking up the steep hill in front of me. he was rocking a gray-haired afro, a dark blue windbreaker, faded jeans and what looked like brand new, ice white sneakers. he had somewhat of a limp to his step and was moving with care, a couple of plastic grocery bags held in his right hand.

now i know it's not safe for a woman to stop and offer a ride to a stranger, especially a male stranger, but this guy was struggling and i couldn't let a brotha go out like that, so i pulled up beside him and rolled down my window.

"you need a ride sir?"

he turned to me and his face broke into the kind of smile that made me think the sun was envious of its shine. i mean, that had to be one of the most genuine and beautiful smiles i've ever seen on a human being. his teeth were gleaming white and straight, and he had a dimple in his right cheek. this old dude was handsome.

"sure!"

he walks to the door, opens it, and gets in. i pull off and he starts talking.

"you live around here or are you just visiting?" he asks.

"i live right around the corner, sir." my parents always taught me to be respectful of my elders. meanwhile, he was having none of that...

"oh, don't call me that!" he exclaimed, his voice colored with chagrin. "my name's john. call me john."

"okay sir...i mean, john."

as i continue driving, i cast furtive glances his way, wondering if i made a mistake by picking this guy up. i mean, he looked harmless enough, but so did ted bundy. what serial killer do you know wears a t-shirt with his favorite occupation emblazoned on it in red letters? i immediately started berating myself for underestimating a brotha just cuz he's older and reminded me of one of my uncles.

meanwhile, john gathers his bags in his lap, all the while giving me his life story.

"i've been retired for two years now...thirty-four years working for ups...now i'm just cooling my heels and taking it easy...live by myself with no woman and no kids..."

he's staring at me with "the look" on his face. you know the look i'm talking about. the "you look good enough to eat...with your legs on my shoulders while i do it" look.

and that's when i realized that mack daddies never retire.

from there, i was mentally scrambling, trying to figure out what i could say to him to let him down while preserving his pride.

"wow!" i exclaimed uncomfortably, "no woman, huh?"

"no."

"oh."

"make a right up here at the light, then a left at the first street on your left."

silence.

"i'm sixty-four years old and i've never been married." he restated.

i just look ahead, making sure i followed his directions.

"so..." he starts, "do you have a man to keep you warm at night?"

mack mode in effect, i think to myself. i glance at him quickly.

"yes...i've got a man."

"is he good to you?"

why is that always the next question? are brothas always looking for sistas to rescue from bad relationships? i mean really, what is he gonna do if i am in a bad relationship? go and kick the brotha's ass? is he gonna "make it all better?"

"yeah, he's good to me."

his face fell in disappointment.

"see where that white car is?" his finger pointed past the dashboard. "my house is right there."

i continue driving towards the car, wondering to myself why a sixty-four year old man actually thought he stood a chance of catching the coochie of a woman half his age. i mean really...if i were the sixty-four year old woman catching a ride home with a man half my age, would i stand a chance? funny how that double standard works.

"where are the single women around here?" he asked me, frustration threaded through his questioning gaze.

now i could have said "they're at the clubs" but does he really need to be at the clubs? how did he expect me to answer that fucking question anyway??? i just shrugged.

as i pulled up next to the white car, he grabbed for his bags and opened the door. before getting out, he turned towards me and grabbed my hand. he placed a kiss on the back of it and looked up into my eyes. i froze.

"too bad you have a man." he said softly, the baritone of his voice vibrated off of my skin.

then he let my hand go, stepped out of the car, and walked towards his house.

i just sat there. shit, but the lips that had just kissed my hand were warm and firm and for a second there, i felt a sexual shock to the system.

on the drive home, i wondered what a sixty-four year old dick would taste like.