Fetishism is getting a bad name here and so too the Labour Party. My Auntie Mary always said of her time in the Civil Service that it was true in the 1970s that everybody was able to stop working for half a week as soon as the tea trolley was wheeled round as they all had proof on cine film that Harold Wilson was engaging in S and M sex with Marcia Falkender. Mind you, she was very loud because she came from a broken family. She was only rescued in life by my highly motivational uncle who would say when it was time to leave "get on your hind legs Mare". At that point, she would be out of the house like a rocket and heading off for genuine love making with him on the Walworth Road like today was no tomorrow.
On 56 year old loners being able to make friends, I can confirm it is not possible. Too much here is being made of appearances although I accept the tatted pony tailers are utter tits. As for talk, I can't count the number of blokes in their 60s at music gigs who after questioning my sexuality wrongly (it says to me a hell of a lot about them) spout crap about bedding Bond girls while listening to "The Floyd". For god's sake, if I want boring I will just stay indoors with the radio and my gigantic cock which I never advertise but rather enjoy privately as women dressed in macs and probably a mild interest in watersports pass my windows. This is not to say I have them open. They are on all non gig days 80% closed but always with a 20% slit.