“Sex without love its a meaningless experience. But as meaningless experiences go, it’s a pretty damn good one.”---Woody Allen
“Usually, I’m on top to keep the guy from escaping.”---Lisa Lampanelli
Back at the dawn of time in 1995 and irked by a modest weight gain and a burgeoning waistline, I joined a gym. Lifetime Fitness, it was called, a large hospital-owned facility smack in the middle of downtown Ocala. I went there faithfully three times a week, jogging on the treadmills and tossing weights around with the amiable crew of fellow gaffers on hand. Almost no one who worked out at Lifetime was under 50. After I had been there about a year, I met Jackie.
Jackie was a brassy copper-haired woman from New York, sixtyish and on the make. Her tight outfits accentuated the positive as well as the negative and didn’t mess with Mr. Inbetween. She decided to make me her first point of interest. I told her I was happily ensconced in a relationship of ten years which was unlikely to change. Jackie, whose husband had cashed in his chips a year earlier and left his earnings to her, was not interested in the solitary life. She found herself a 40-year-old redneck who liked to fish. Jackie, eager to make a good first impression, bought him a boat. She bounced into the gym with a big grin on her face and told me about it. “Keep the papers,” I said, smiling back.
Jackie was not a devoted fisherwoman, but toughed it out. After about a year, however, the fabric of her new relationship had frayed, her boyfriend becoming increasingly grouchy at her reticence to provide ongoing new toys. Jackie mournfully recited her woes as we jogged along one unhappy morning. “You still seeing that vet?” she asked. I assured her it was sort of a permanent thing. “Oh well,” she remarked in frustration, “I guess I’ll have to move to The Villages. I wonder if they have a place to keep a boat.”
If Jackie was looking for love in all the wrong places, The Villages was as good a place as any to start. For those unbaptized, the place is a retirement community of 51,442 souls, all but 900 of them white Republicans (the rest are African-American or Hispanic Republicans) which sprawls over parts of three counties---Marion, Lake and Sumter---in central Florida. The Villages is a hive of Tea Party activism and any serious GOP political candidate will sooner or later put in an appearance, begging for alms and votes. Even Old Carrot-Top visited. If he was in a grabbing mood, nobody told.
Sodom, Gomorrah Or Both?
Now, some people will tell you that in spite of their conservative political leanings, the population of The Villages is—how do we say it nicely—exceptionally frisky, which is what happens sometimes when a community boasts ten women for every man. One of their number, Peggy Klemm, 68, refused to let a wheelchair-bound husband slow her down. Peggy and her 49-year-old companion, David Bobilya—who probably qualifies for Boy Toy status under the circumstances—were spotted with their undies around their ankles over by the Bait Shack one night. “They were still at it when the police arrived ten minutes later ,” reported a bartender at the nearby Red Sauce. The two merrymakers were arrested for having drunken sex in public, which we were surprised to discover is actually a crime in The Villages. We might feel worse for Peggy if this wasn’t her second local violation. She was earlier cited and placed on probation for drunk driving in her golf cart four days earlier. This qualifies as a virtual crime spree for Peggy, but it’s not all bad news. The Red Sauce decided to honor her fun-loving attitude with a new cocktail (rum, coconut & cream with a cherry on top) called Sex On the Square. The bar can barely keep up with the demand.
Although Peggy and Dave opted for the shrubbery, golf carts are usually the vehicle of choice for eldersex, beating out wheelchairs, 4-1. All this revelry would not be possible, of course, without the able assistance of Viagra, which is available in The Villages from a guy who knows a guy. Prices are high but not as elevated as drugstore Viagra.
Oh, and by the way, it’s not just the singles scene that’s hopping at the self-described Friendliest Place on Earth. The married people are living it up with a thriving swingers’ scene. A barman at a Villages restaurant claimed he was paid $100 for three hours work at a recent party. “When I got the job, the two men who approached me warned me there might be things going on I’d rather not see. They weren’t kidding.” The bartender said he retained images etched forever in his psyche. “It was a full-blown orgy. I had to make it clear I wasn’t on the menu. And I’m no easily-shocked prude. At work, I get old women coming on to me all the time. Some of them know no shame. But that’s just Triple-A ball. This was the Major Leagues.”
Life In The Fast Lane
A typical night in The Villages, according to writer/observer Annette Witheridge, begins with music in the square between 6 and 9. Elderly women troop in wearing the sexiest tops they can find as well as excessively short shorts. They line dance together, hoping to attract the sordid interests of nearby single men hovering around the alcohol islands. None of them are fat, or even chubby.
Even earlier (around 4 p.m.) Katie Belle’s Music Hall is cranking up, earning its reputation as the afternoon epicenter of bad behavior. Happy hour, with its half-price cocktails, is everlasting. You can get a Green Nipple until nine o’clock. You can get a drink until then, as well.
The older residents, the Frogs (they come to The Villages to croak), have disappeared by ten. Most of the liquor oases have closed. A diehard crowd of gaffers ambles about the square nursing diminishing drinks in plastic cups, telling tales of Mr. Midnight, the penile appelation of a retired biology teacher who used to stalk the area. His conquests were legendary until he slipped up, inviting author Andrew Blechman to join him on his nightly prowl. Blechman’s book, Leisureville, exposed a side of The Villages the residents would prefer you (and their children) didn’t know about. Oops. The author described the place as “very Orwellian, Big Brother regularly booming out of the lampposts and the house newspaper only reporting the good news.” Doctors told Blechman there were more cases of herpes in The Villages than in all of Miami and the rates for sexually-transmitted diseases were the highest in America. “Every night is Saturday night in The Villages,” he reported. “And hey—who’s going to get pregnant?”
As a matter of fact, that would be the wife of Phil Harper, at 50 one of The Villages younger studs. Phil accidentally became a father a few years ago. He’ll tell you about it. “My daughter was conceived at the 19th hole of the golf course. It was the last thing I expected. Not to mention my wife, who’s five years older than me. I’ve lived in New Orleans and Key West. The Villages is wilder than either of them. It’s Disneyland for adults. The older women throw themselves at the men and sex in public happens a lot. This place is just awesome.”
Well, sometimes. Other times, not so awesome. Last summer, Stephanie Sparber filed for divorce from her loving husband Howard after he got a little tipsy and fired 33 rounds from a Sig Sauer 9 mm semi-automatic into the home of a female neighbor. The neighbor told the Sheriff that Howie, 69, had been making sexual propositions toward her for the last eight months, leading to a restraining order. Sparber was charged with firing a weapon into a dwelling, aggravated stalking and criminal mischief. The story was not included in the sunshiny columns of the local newspaper.
Then there was John Francis Bessette, 72, promptly booked for misdemeanor battery after dumping his live-in girlfriend out of the golf cart on the way home from dinner. “We had a little argument,” protested John. “Then I stopped and let her out nicely. What kind of a cad do you think I am?” Witnesses insisted the cart never stopped rolling, which was also true of Bessette’s girlfriend.
The husband of Stephanie Marie Buckley was much more genteel. He simply drove home while she was in the Gator’s Dockside restroom. “I needed to take a swim,” said hubby. After marching over a mile back to their bungalow, Stephanie launched so many whacks and projectiles at her husband that he called 911. The Lady Lake police department somewhat unfairly booked her on a charge of domestic battery, completely ignoring her abandonment issues.
Hanging From The Chandeliers
When people are young, many of them suffer from the notion that you reach a certain age, a gong rings, and you are forever exiled to the No Sex Room. Natural acts which you have performed your entire life no longer hold any interest or seem inappropriate, even disgusting. Nice people take up residence in their sitting rooms and read the newspaper or knit doilies. If they only knew. In England, The Longitudinal Study of Ageing reveals that 31% of British men between the ages of 80 and 90 still have sex. And just under 60% of men between 70 and 80 are sexually active on a regular basis. If this information leaks out to the women of The Villages, watch out for a mass exodus to London. In this country, the Indiana University Center for Sexual Health Promotion has evidence that 43 percent of men and 22 percent of women over 70 engage in sexual intercourse. And that’s in Indiana! The National Commission on Aging contends that women find sex over 70 to be more physically satisfying than they did in their forties. Jane Fonda remarked, “I’m 77. If I never have sex again, it will be sad.” (Note to Michael Hatcherson: it looks like you still have a chance.)
Used to be, your mother would remind you to always use a condom. Now, you have to remind her. One of the big problems with senior sex, along with broken ribs and the occasional myocardial infarction, is the elder set’s unwillingness to protect themselves from sexually transmitted diseases. The Indiana study showed that condom use is lowest among people over sixty, presumably because pregnancy is no longer an issue, except, of course, for Phil Harper’s wife. Starting in 2012, Medicare decided it might be a good idea to offer senior citizens free screenings for Chlamydia, gonorrhea and syphilis, and this is bound to succeed. If there’s one thing we know about senior citizens, it’s that they will never fail to take advantage of anything free, even when it’s painful.
With eldersex booming at The Villages and elsewhere, It’s only a matter of time until MGM comes down to Florida for another installment of Where The Girls Are. Is Connie Francis still available? George Hamilton is only 77 and still fully tanned. It’s a natural. We just have to change the song lyrics a little. “Where the girls are, someone waits for me. A smiling face, a warm embrace, two legs to clasp me tenderly.” The theaters will be packed. Some of the more intimate scenes, of course, will have to be filmed from a reasonable distance. Wrinkly sex is okay in person but never acceptable on the Silver Screen. With the great success of the movie, television will inevitably follow with a weekly dramedy. Botox will sponsor. TV shows about sexy old people will proliferate. The Lone Ranger will return, this time with his faithful Indian companion, Stella. I Love Lucy will be back with uproarious tales of your favorite swingers, the Arnazes and the Mertzes. And sexual racist bungling will hit a high note when Archie Bunker is discovered in flagrante delicto with an African-American minister’s high-spirited wife. Not to mention, you haven’t seen anything til you’ve seen elderpuppets at play.
It’s all good, and we’ve been led in the proper direction by those fabulous ladies of The Villages. Let’s have a solid round of applause for their chutzpah, their refusal to go gently into that good night. These ladies are champions, indefatigable in their lust for life and love, not one bit afraid to let their freak flags fly. Though perhaps a little more cautious not to fly them too close to the Bait Shack. Not everyone wants a cocktail named after their escapades.
That’s all, folks…
