GOFRs

So I’m sitting around on a lazy hot summer Sunday ignoring a ball game on TV. Between innings I caught bits of a commercial about back to school something or other and drifted into a gentle reverie, ably assisted by my mojito numero tres.

High school was great for me, or at least I remember it that way now. Like many or most kids, I had my first sexual experiences then. (I don’t count any of that “spin the bottle” sh!t.) You just can’t help smiling when those memories crawl unbidden back into your grizzled and lightly toasted consciousness. Sweet, funny, poignant and, yes, painful, but most of all, precious. It’s hard to keep your hand out of your pants. (For that matter, it’s hard when you put your hand in your pants.)

Did you ever wonder what ever became of the hottie who helped you lose your virginity? Or your first oral? Do they remember you as sweetly as you remember them? Bet they do. In fact, what do you think would happen if they heard from you–totally out of the blue? “Hey, Linda! It’s me, Eddie, from Central High. Yeah? Well I was thinking about you too. You know, I never forgot …”

This has got to lead to a hook-up, right? So what if she’s had seven kids, and the hair on his head has relocated to his back. There’s no f*ck like an old f*ck, just for fun.

Now the entire civilized world is on Facebook, Myspace and Classmates.com, Tweeting their lives through cyber-ether, it’s no big deal to find people you’ve lost touch with.

This could be the start of a new social networking movement. I call it GOFR’s. What’s a GOFR? Kind of like a MILF, but better. GOFR stands for Golden Oldie F*cks, Revisited.

The release of “American Pie” in 1999 marked the official beginning of the MILF movement. It caught on because it made sense. It got a big boost from the song “Stacy’s Mom” in 2003 by Fountains of Wayne. Today’s MILF’s do it for fun and profit on live web-cams. Fine and dandy if you like your sex long-distance.

Me? I’ll go for the GOFR. Like the Trix Rabbit (almost) said, MILF’s are for kids, but GOFR’s are for grown-ups.