A couple of winners from the past few weeks:

"I started dating a younger man. I told him I could not go through with it because I felt like Mrs. Robinson. He said, 'Who is Mrs. Robinson'?
Case in point."

And another generational tale of woe:
"Picking up girls on Lake Street in the '60's (cruisin'), sitting in the backseat, smoking cigarettes, arm around the date who had a bee-hive hair-do. A flick of the ash and the burning end of the cigarette falls in her hair. When it starts smoking I see it, she doesn't--do I smack this girl I have only known 10 minutes??? Pound on her head to put it out???

No, I do the gentlemanly thing and played dumb, discreetly tossing my cigarette out the window. Her girlfriend screamed and knocked it away. We all got upset and wondered why her hair did that."

A gentleman, indeed.

More horror to come.