I’m often told I don’t look my age. Most of the time, that’s welcome.
A 26 year old took a liking to me. I was polite, yet distant. I didn’t want to encourage this fine young thing who still lived at home with his parents.
As I left the bar, he stopped me. “If you were a McDonald’s hamburger, you would be a McBeautiful.”
I seriously didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.