Bob, a 65-year-old millionaire widower, walks into the country club arm-in-arm with a jaw-dropping 25-year-old blonde. She’s radiant, graceful, glowing, and clinging to him like he’s George Clooney.
Everyone at the club turns to stare. His buddies are stunned. One of them pulls him aside and says,
“Bob … how on earth did you manage to get someone like her?”
Bob flashes a grin.
“Get her? She’s not my girlfriend, she’s my wife.”
Mouths drop. Another friend blurts out, “Seriously? How’d you convince her to marry you?”
Bob leans in, lowers his voice, and smirks. “I lied about my age.”
His friend nods, “Ahh, you told her you were 50?”
Bob laughs. “Nope. I told her I was 90.”