The Thity-Second Night

Last Saturday, it was me who brought up the subject over dinner.

“Remember the lady who lives three houses down? I’ve told you about her before.”

Nick nodded. “Yeah, your friend — the one with the son who just turned eighteen?”

“That’s the one. Well, her son came over yesterday… and tried to seduce me.”

Nick choked on his wine, coughing so hard I had to get up and slap his back.

Still catching his breath, cheeks flushed, he gasped, “Wait — what?!”

“To my great surprise, he showed up alone. We were just talking, and then, out of nowhere, he made a move — verbally and physically.”

“What a son of a—”

“No, no. His mother may be a bit eccentric, but she’s a decent woman. The boy’s just young. His hormones are raging, his head and phone probably full of porn. He has desires, and I’m the friendliest — and closest — adult male in his orbit.”

“You turned him down, right?”

“Of course I did. Someone had to be the adult in the room.”

“Adult and Catholic,” Nick added, with that sharp tone of his that always catches me off guard.

“Exactly,” I said, barely hiding a smile. “Adult and Catholic. I explained the situation as gently as I could. I was flattered, yes — but I couldn’t possibly accept.”

“Flattered?!”

“Why not? How could I not be flattered that an eighteen-year-old would choose me — an old man of sixty — as the one he’d want to lose his virginity to?”

“This is an island, man. Everyone knows everyone. Especially if you're a local. If he messes with the wrong guy, he might have to leave town.”

“Well, I’m still probably his safest option. Though I doubt he was thinking about my dazzling sixty-year-old physique.”

“You actually look amazing for sixty.”

“Thanks. I credit moral strength and sheer stubbornness.”

“If you told me you were fifty, I’d think you were a bit worn, but I’d believe it.”

“I’ll take that as another compliment.” We both laughed.

“What happened to the kid?” Nick asked.

“I imagine he left disappointed. I doubt I caused any lasting trauma — just as I doubt he took my advice to guard his virginity. He’s probably out there now, looking for someone to take him up on the offer.”

“Who isn’t, at eighteen?”

“I was twenty-two when I lost mine.”

“Accidents,” Nick said with a philosophical air. “As Aristotle would put it. I was six* — but hey, I was the exception. Just like you.”

“You’ve been reading Aristotle?”

“A book about him. After our talk the other day — you remember, the one about the state of the world — I figured I should learn something real.”

“I remember. That conversation explains a lot about our young friend’s behavior, actually.”

“I signed up for the local library and found this book.”

He was finishing his plate, and I looked at him seriously, with a delightful thought: “I’m creating a monster” .

* see The Sixth Night.