“He is smiling!” – One of the Ladies from the group stares at me.
I was lifting the massage bed over the balcony to help my neighbor after a heart surgery.
“Oh, jij doet massage? Nou kom maar!” – All of them starts laughing [“Oh, you can massage? Come come!”]

And I did. After finishing the treatment, I packed everything in and went straight to the other side of the street.

You’ve never heard old ladies scream like this.

One of them jumped out of the chair, questioning whether this is really happening.
It was really happening, so I opened the gates to set up the massage bed in the middle of the grill party.

“But how much is it?”
– Nothing! It’s free.
It’s a 60th wedding [Diamond] anniversary, they deserved a good evening.

The second she laid on the bed, dirty jokes were flying from every direction of the wind.
Some of them were way too difficult to translate, but one thing kept coming up viciously:
GRAB THOSE BOOTIES.
At one moment she slapped on my thigh and started to pull down my panties (Blindly, her face was buried)
When she lifted her head, the shock on her face was worth every penny.
It was still me, not her naughty friends switching places with me as she expected it.
What a delightful way to begin such a special evening.

Right after Round 1 they gave me a plate of food – fresh from the grill – until I prepared my hands to give another wave of pain relief.
A pretty lady in her early twenties (The Grandkid) flew out of her chair and jumped on the bed the second it was free.

If I knew massage is this popular among ladies, I should’ve advertised it the second I got my degree.
By now I’d probably already be married.

As they continued to drink champagne, I kept making everyone feel younger by 10+ years.
No matter how old, pretty, muscular or drunk they were, all of them got up with a satisfied smile on their face. Soon enough, I was almost done with everybody. That’s when they handed me whisky.

Most of them were too old to remember high-school English, but managed to communicate through Dunglish/Engtch.
They were loud and happy. A handful of champagnes were already consumed by the time I got there, and even more during my stay. Some of them were wasted to the point where they couldn’t stop singing, completely inaudibly, but who cares when your blood-alcohol level is as high as the Empire State Building.
They even went to do Conga on the street!
It was too good to be real.
Their hospitality was 10/10, and they were the ones who kept praising me.
At one moment, two full plates arrived with seemingly delicious pieces of strawberry-filled pancakes.
They were salmon rolls, though still very-very tasty. It made them a little more sober than they were previously; so I brought my Polaroid.

They grouped up in front of the balloon gate, and 1 2 3, I caught the perfect moment for their 60th anniversary:

These people deserve all the love we can give.
This is how a stranger from a foreign country became a beloved fellow on a pension-party.

To be honest, I was afraid. I was afraid that if I go over, they’d send me away. Because of corona, because I show up without being invited to the party, because of being a foreigner who doesn’t speak Dutch perfectly…The list goes on, these thoughts were crossing my mind constantly, trying to stop me, but my heart said I should walk there and try it.

The rest you’ve read already. That’s how you make wonderful memories.

When you choose the voice of your heart over the voice of your fears.

Take care,
Erik

Can you imagine being married for 60 years in the 21st century?

2020.07.22 – Day 548

PS: One guy at the party started to talk to me about how the financial elite manipulates the economy with puppet strings, while showing me a video of Reiki orgasm that is achieved through channeling energy in my Chakras, if I want it.
He had YouTube premium; when he locked the phone, the moaning loudly kept going.
What a fun evening, didn’t see that coming.