Bob, a 70-year-old wealthy widower, arrives at a dance with a stunning 25-year-old blonde on his arm. She’s charming, attentive, and turns every head in the room.
His friends can’t believe it. The moment they get him alone, they ask, “Bob, how did you land a trophy girlfriend like that?”
Bob grins. “Girlfriend? She’s my wife.”
Stunned, they press him. “So how did you convince her to marry you?”
“I lied about my age,” Bob says.
“Oh—what, you told her you were 50?”
Bob smiles. “No. I told her I was 90.”
