Since March of 1989 I have probably worn long pants maybe a dozen times here in Florida. After all, I have really decent legs and nothing to be shy about. That has been my uniform since moving here, shorts and polo shirts. Back in the mid nineties, when I was going to the gym three times a week, I would also do the shorts without a shirt look once in awhile. Once Mark got a hold of me and started feeding me all those fatty foods however, I learned to keep the shirt on. That is one thing a lot of people here in Florida have not learned, when it is time to stop trying to look like you're not old.
Last night Mark let me out of the house, something he does from time to time, and we ended up at Sidelines Bar. I haven't been going out to bars a lot lately, so last night certain things stood out to me. First of all, shorts. Like I said, I wear shorts all the time. Unfortunately a lot of older gentlemen haven't updated their shorts since Wham was the big new gay rock group. Nothing screams I am living in the nineteen eighties like a pair of very tight short, shorts, and last night I saw at least two pair of them on men who should have known better. Shorts that end just centimeters below your crotch do not look as sexy as you think they do when your legs are crisscrossed with blue lines. The other look I saw last night was the cut off sleeve look. Really, if in a stiff breeze the skin on your arms flutter like the bunting at a cheap used car lot, you should not wear cut off sleeves.