[This is another guy taking a run at becoming “America’s Funny Old Guy,” a group that includes me, Dave Barry, Silverback Ross, Silverback David, Silverback Jim, and quite a few others. I have to say “nic etry, Silverback Mike, but we all have a long way to go before we catch up to Silverback Dave Barry. SB SM]
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IRREVERENT TAKES ON AGING
Less Than 1,000,000 Readers
July 11, 2026
The Idiots Guide to Being Old Mailbag 2
Where Aging Meets Poor Judgment, Again
Since publishing the first Idiots Guide to Being Old mailbag, the questions have continued to arrive by the bagful.
At first, this was flattering. Then it became concerning, because apparently there are still a lot of Old Guys out there struggling with basic existence in modern life.
As always, these are real faux questions from people I may or may not have made up.
But all the locations are real.
I think.
Dear Coach Idiot,
Over the past few weeks, a younger woman of about 40 has become very attentive toward me. First, she touched my hips and complimented my flexibility. Last week, she asked me to take off my shirt and said she’d like to see me twice a week.
According to my know-it-all wife, that’s just what physical therapists do. My wife has always been quick to dismiss female interest in me, and I question her judgment on this.
How should I proceed?
—Seeing Sparks in Sarasota
Your wife has once again ruined a perfectly good fantasy with facts.
“See you Thursday” isn’t a romantic invitation. It’s a treatment plan for your crooked pelvis.
Do your clamshells and go home.
Dear Mike,
At my last physical, my doctor said my T-level was low and prescribed something to raise it. At first I thought he said Toblerone, which made sense because I’ve always responded well to chocolate. I’m currently taking the T-stuff, although I’ve doubled up on the Toblerone as a precaution.
It’s been about six weeks, and I’ve been noticing some disturbing changes.
I joined a gym and bought a sleeveless shirt, though I haven’t worn it outside the house yet. I even challenged my grandson to an arm-wrestling contest and became angry when he laughed at the suggestion.
More concerning, I’ve begun noticing women again. All kinds of women—young, old, women I’d apparently spent years looking straight through as though they were ghosts. Last Tuesday, I caught myself staring at the melons in the produce department. There wasn’t even a woman standing near them.
Lately, my wife has been accusing me of acting like a teenager, which simply can’t be true because when I was a teen, I was afraid of girls and spent most of my time building model airplanes.
Could this be caused by excess Toblerone?
—Testy in Tucson
Toblerone is a triangular Swiss chocolate bar, and the only level it raises is your blood sugar. Testosterone is the hormone responsible for convincing men that whatever the situation is, it might be improved by taking off their shirts.
Try to relax. These aren’t unexplained symptoms; they’re the entire point of testosterone. You’ve spent six weeks taking a substance whose primary historical contribution to civilization has been erections and men believing they could fix things without reading the instructions.
The increased energy and sudden interest in showing off your upper arms are to be expected. The produce aisle is another matter.
I’m guessing your wife may bear some responsibility here. She probably heard “testosterone” and imagined you’d have more energy to finally clean out the garage. She didn’t realize your doctor was restoring an earlier version of you that the marriage had spent forty years successfully phasing out.
Don’t stop taking anything based on advice from a guy who writes a fake advice column. Do ask your doctor whether the dose is right for you. In the meantime, get rid of the sleeveless shirt and leave your grandson alone.
The good news is that you’re still you.
The bad news is that your doctor may be undoing forty years of your wife’s hard work.
Dear Idiot’s Guide,
Last week, my son-in-law was driving us to a restaurant, and I told him he was going the wrong way. He said Google Maps had it handled. I explained that I’d been driving that route since 1978 and knew a much better way.
He said, “I don’t give a flying fuck how you got there in 1978.”
What exactly is a flying fuck? Is it something you’re supposed to give, and if so, why was he refusing to give me one?
—Helpful in Hartford
A flying fuck isn’t something you can give, receive, catch, or report to the FAA.
It’s what people say when an ordinary fuck no longer conveys how badly they want you to stop giving advice.
Your son-in-law misused the flying fuck, as suggesting an alternate route to dinner isn’t a flying-fuck offense. At most, it warranted a regular fuck, or perhaps a simple, “Thanks, I know where I’m going.”
But you were giving directions from the back seat to someone already using Google Maps. If your son-in-law wanted an old-school second opinion, he could’ve opened the folded map in his glove compartment. At least the map would’ve kept quiet.
Next time, offer the shortcut once. If he ignores you, look out the window and tell everyone what used to be where the Walgreens is.
Dear Coach Mike,
My new car has more opinions than most people I know. It beeps when I drift out of my lane, warns me when I follow too closely, tells me I’m speeding, and occasionally suggests that I pull over and take a break. I admit, the little steaming coffee cup light is the only warning I don’t resent.
Now every notification is followed by my wife saying, “See? Even the car thinks you’re a bad driver.”
For years, I assumed she was just a nervous passenger. But now the car appears to have taken her side, and being criticized by both of them every time I drive is beginning to shake my confidence.
Can the commentary be turned off?
—Dashboarded and Defeated in Des Moines
Maybe the car, but definitely not your wife. And at this point, turning off the dashboard warnings won’t undo what has already happened.
For years, you dismissed your wife’s complaints as nervous chatter. Then you invited a neutral observer into the marriage, and it immediately agreed with her.
Your mistake is that you did not buy a car; you bought an expert witness for the prosecution.
You may be able to silence the four-wheeled informant, but your wife now has independent corroboration from a machine with no reason to lie. Stop focusing on the commentary and start leaving more room between you and the car ahead.
Dear Idiots Guy,
My husband retired six months ago and now begins every morning by asking, “What are we doing today?”
By “we,” he means me. He follows me on errands, wanders into the kitchen while I’m cooking, asks when lunch will be ready, and seems hurt when I suggest that he find something to do on his own.
He says he thought I’d be happy that we could finally spend more time together. I am happy. But I didn’t intend on becoming the activities director at a senior resort.
How do I get him to build a life of his own without making him feel unwanted?
—Activities in Akron
I turned this one over to my wife, who understands the difference between enjoying retirement together and having a retired husband standing three feet behind her while she loads the dishwasher.
Wife says:
Your husband retired.
You did not.
He spent his working life with places to go, people to see, and someone telling him what needed to be done. Now he wakes up every morning and assumes that job has been transferred to you.
It has not.
He is your husband, not a cruise passenger waiting for the day’s itinerary.
Tell him you’re happy to make plans together, but you’re not responsible for filling every empty square on his calendar. He needs friends, hobbies, errands, projects, and somewhere else to stand while you’re making lunch.
Retirement means he stopped working.
It does not mean you got a new job.
Dear Coach,
The other day, my husband overheard me listening to one of his voice messages at double speed. He was deeply hurt and said that if I speed him up, I’m not really listening to him.
His messages are never less than five minutes long and usually concern things like whether the grocery store had the soup he wanted and which route he took home.
I listen to every word. I just listen to them faster.
Am I being disrespectful?
—Listening in Louisville
No. You listened to every word. You simply refused to age at the same rate while doing it.
Marriage is the longest-running podcast most people will ever subscribe to. After enough episodes, adjusting the playback speed isn’t disrespectful. It’s survival.
Tell your husband he should be grateful you’re still subscribed.
Got a question for the Idiot’s Guide? Send it. Old Guys, Old Gals — no question is too stupid for the mailbag.
We need “the funny” ever more as we age and live through these dire times!