“I have a new 21-year-old assistant,” he told me. When we met I was 20 and he was 45; his assistant would have been 12. He keeps aging and yet the men surrounding him stay boys.
“He wears cowboy boots just like you,” he continued. “I call him Twinky Boots.”
There was a time when I wore cowboy boots with some frequency, but it’s been years and never had I considered that fashion choice to be a defining characteristic. We never really perceive ourselves correctly.