Where's My Geritol?

Late summer, 2000. Around 10 o'clock in the evening.

I stand at the corner of Broadway and Montrose, waiting to cross the street.

Someone calls out, "Ooooh, daddy." It's obvious from the tone that the young man calling this out has seen someone he would like gain conjugal knowledge of.

I look around, to see the young man, and to see who he might be referring to.

I see a young, muscular man, shirtless, glistening with sweat.

I see no one else.

I realize he was referring to me.

I realize that the young, muscular, shirtless, and it appeared, non-underwear wearing, hung, young man, who is smiling at me, was referring to me.

I realize he just called me "Daddy."

I feel old. I appreciate the obvious compliment... but... daddy?