My wife and I were talking anatomy. She asked if I agreed that the body is a wonderful, perfect machine. I told her a woman's body has one purpose. She asked what?
A ninety-year-old man is sitting on a park bench, sobbing, when a young man walks by and asks him what's wrong. Through his tears the old man answers, "I'm in love with a twenty-five-year-old woman." "What's wrong with that?" asks the young man.
Between his sobs and sniffles, the old guy answers, "You don't understand. Every morning before she goes to work, we make love... At lunchtime she comes home and we make love again, and then she cooks me my favorite meal. In the afternoon when she gets a break, she rushes home and gives me the best blow job an old man ever could want. And then at suppertime, and all night long, we make love again." He breaks down again crying no longer able to speak.
The young man puts his arm around the old guy. "I don't understand. It sounds like you have the perfect relationship. Why are you crying?"
The old man looks up and through his tears he says, "I forgot where I live."
