In August 2015, on the italian equivalent of Backpage, I had answered an ad from a 60-something guy "offering flowers". He was looking for my type, also he was hosting and didn't want a last-minute thing, which I needed. The rate was very cheap but still something I could appreciate. After a few emails, we went straight to the point and set a date.
We met at a public place, had some smart talk on his car on the way to his home, then he politely asked me to hide under the seat right before parking, because he was afraid of being seen by his neighbours.
We had some more talking at his place, where he went on and on telling how he wasn't into transvestites or other "weird and degenerate things" and making the point that he wasn't looking for whores.
Then we went to action. He was passionate but had a bad breath; on my side I couldn't feel any chemistry nor get a hard-on, but that didn't stop us as he was a top. Furthermore, I was armpulled into foregoing protections.
Then each one had a quick shower and he offered me a coffee to accompany my smoke.
On the way out, I noticed his bust of Mussolini and he commented that he should have taken better allies, to which I replied something like "hmm yeah, that definitely played a huge role there".
Finally he brought me back to my town.
It could have been worse than that of course but I find it bleak enough.