By On the occasion of our 20th anniversary
By Gustavo Arellano
By R. Scott Moxley
By Alfonso Delgado
By Courtney Hamilton
By Joel Beers
By Peter Maguire
By Charles Lam
"Hey, babe, that's no problem," he leered. "I'm married, too." 3224 E. Pacific Coast Hwy., Corona del Mar, (949) 640-7440.
Known as the "Backwards K" to locals—or, as one beautiful buxom blonde regular calls it, "God's Waiting Room"—Kelly's on Naples Island attracts those who still have some vigor left in their golden years. This is the perfect place to pull an Anna Nicole (the marrying-a-millionare-old-guy part, not all the other stuff she did). Kelly's is frequented by men and women in the highest of tax brackets, patrons such as Porsche salesmen and former NFL players (excuse me—former Super Bowl winners). So what if they're older than your parents? Or your grandparents?
"Some of the cougars here are old enough to be saber-tooth tigers!" a potential digger tells me over huge vodka martinis (reason enough to go to Kelly's—the drinks are big and cheap). Looking around, I realize I'm the youngest person by about 100 years. But one thing that sets this dimly lit, cozy bar apart from other gold-digging hotspots is its unspoken code of discretion. The bartenders might sass you a bit, but they're tight-lipped regarding their customers' liaisons. For when it comes to slightly questionable social activities, nobody knows how to be discreet better than people who have been on Earth for damn near a century. 5716 E. Second St., Long Beach, (562) 433-4983.