30.
“One day, a city stockbroker decides he’s had enough. Too much stress, too much city, too much of everything. So he quits his job, abandons his apartment, and rents a cabin in the middle of the desert. For six months, he lives quietly and isolated. Until one day, there’s a knock at the door.”
“He opens the door and sees a huge lumberjack with a giant beard who is shifting nervously from foot to foot. Finally, the big man speaks:
“I’m your neighbor from the cabin that’s a mile away. Anyway, I’m having a party on Saturday and I was wondering if you’d like to come?”
The guy pauses for a moment and then replies, “You know what? That would be great. It’s time for me to go now and it would be nice to meet new people. I’d love to go.”
“Okay,” the woodcutter says, looking relieved. “I’ll see you on Saturday around eight.” He turns to leave.
But he pauses for a second and then turns around: “I should probably warn you, there will be a lot of drinking.”
—Well, I’m sure there’s no problem. I used to drink quite a bit in the city myself, so I think a little hard liquor will do.
“Well then,” says the big man. “Well then, at eight.”
But as he turns to leave, he stops again and turns back. “Yeah, I should also mention: there will most likely be a bit of a fight before the night is over.”
“Well, okay,” the man replies. “I get along pretty well with most people, so I don’t think that will be a problem. But if things get ugly, I’m sure I can take care of myself.”
“Okay,” the big man says. “I’ll see you at eight o’clock sharp.”
But once again he stops and turns around, scratching his beard. “So I should probably tell you too: there could be some pretty wild sex.”
The guy perks up a bit at that. “Well, you know, we’re all consenting adults. And after all this time here alone, I don’t think I’d have any problem with a little intimate company if that’s what happens.”
“Okay,” the man says. “Well, I’ll see you on Saturday.” And with that, he turns around and starts walking away.
“Wait, just one question,” the boy says. “What should I wear?”
The woodcutter pauses to think and scratches his beard again. “I don’t think it will matter much. It will just be you and me.”
—Colin R., Quora