According to several clickbait internet surveys my real age is twenty eight. Although one site begged to inform me that I was sixty five, and another one in all seriousness suggested between 13 and 15.
Obviously I do not age the same way as you humans.
My species is extraordinarily long-lived.
A blessing and a curse.
Okay, now that you had a second or two to absorb that datum, it's time to remind you that age and fuddiduddiness do not necessarily correlate. Some people are old farts at twenty, others never grow up. Appearances may deceive.
One of the reasons I like hanging out in Chinatown on my days off is because when they see the silver in my beard they assume that I am worthy of some respect. It's very refreshing!
If you're looking up, it may seem worse than it is. Chinese people of my age never have any white hair. But white people such as myself, well, that's a different story.
[The beard is one of those typical well-trimmed circular bristle patches. Such as Sean Connery -- who genuinely looks like an elderly fossil, unlike me -- has. Other actors with similar facial fuzz: Malcolm McDowell, Hugh Jackman, and Vigo Mortensen.]
I used to think my beard was like Indira Gandhi, hanging upside-down, but then the white streak started invading the other areas.
Anyhow, because of that deceptively mature look, Chinese people will be polite and considerate most of the time. On the bus they offer me a seat (remember, the view is worse from below). It's very flattering.
Now now. There there. No need, no need.
M-sai hak-hei.
I actually prefer to stand on the bus. Sitting puts my eyes at standee crotch or arse level. Especially in the old-folks seats at the front.
The person who has the other room in this apartment still looks like she's in her early thirties at most. When the light is right, mid-twenties. I will not divulge her age, but she's only nine years younger than myself. Did I already mention that Chinese people don't ever look their age?
When she wants to, she radiates "SO not-guilty".
Nope. Did not do it. Not me.
Don't know what you mean.
I had nothing to do with it.
I'm just a sweet little lady!
If I ever end up with another companion, presumably one of a suitable number of years (let's say plus or minus twenty-eight, seeing as all the wise clickbait sites with two exceptions postulate that that is my "real" age), problems may occur. If and when we're together people might assume that she's taking her college tutor out for snackies. How nice!
The contrast with my evident maturity will naturally make that person seem exceptionally young and innocent. Especially because I'll be studiously trying to NOT look like a wicked old geezer.
Me? I'm just a decent middle-aged man, altogether trustworthy.
Does this face look like it could even plot evil?
I did not take your coconuts!
My ability to look socially acceptable and plausibly blameless is much better than in the past. The neatly trimmed beard, plus the twinkle-eye reading specs, and my bright friendly facial expression, present an image of totally not-misbehaving forest creature. Someone whom you will gladly let lurk around your shiny things or secret stash of grubs.
I am not looking at your coconuts.
Honest.
AFTER THOUGHT
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nf670orHKcA.]
Good grief. I'm not THAT old!
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