I've told this story here before, but some members are new. I brought a bar pick-up home, who volunteered that he was 42 (I hadn't asked), which seemed totally believeable. I was 55, which I also told him.
We had a great time in bed, and I was really interested in this guy, wanted to stay in touch with him. As we finally went to sleep I was thinking: "I wish he was closer to my own age, he's great otherwise", because I've had more success with guys closer in age to me. For one thing they tend not to run off with guys their own younger age, and for another I have more in common with older guys.
Next morning as we're waking up he nudged me and said he had a confession to make. "Oh, gawd." I'm thinking, "He's got some contagious disease!"
No, his confession was that he wasn't 42, but 52. He could have passed for 42, I didn't suspect him. I mean, not in the greatest shape for 42, his face a bit old, but certainly within the range I've seen. Though his body, especially his naked back when he lay on his stomach in bed, could have belonged to a 20-something, sculpted & flawless.
And I started to cry into my pillow. Which made him distraught! He kept apologizing for lying to me and upsetting me. I finally was able to tell him that I was crying for happiness, my wish fulfilled from the night before. I went to sleep wishing he was in his 50s, and when I woke up the next morning he was! What a miracle that seemed to me!
But he couldn't believe that, a gay man being happy someone was older than he had said. I had to keep reassuring him I was serious. We began an LTR that very day.