HELP--- I NEED AN EXIT LINE

We were both heading for the doctor's office door. He beat me, opened it for me and gave me a surprise compliment on my looks.  It seemed harmless and what lady doesn't want to be told she is looking good especially when 80 years old and knows better. I thanked him for the open door and the compliment.

We entered the office, notified our respective receptionists and took seats on the same side of the room.   He was tall, heavy set and a bit scruffy in that he didn't really have a beard but just a patchy growth of random gray whiskers and untamed hair.  Almost street person like.

I noticed he was carrying a portable oxygen concentrator. Since I am dealing with COPD, I asked him how long the battery lasts with one of those.

He was briefly helpful and then he started asking somewhat personal questions. He asked if I was from around there and I told him I lived about 20 miles away. He noticed my ring less left hand and wanted to know if I lived alone.   I was starting to get a wee bit uncomfortable as we were only about 2 minutes into the conversation.

He then wanted to know if I would want to go out sometime. I said "not really" and to change the subject, I asked him about the small bottle he was rubbing on his rather massive stomach in a rhythmic fashion.  His stomach was quite large. Were he a woman I think he would have been due in about a month. Sadly one of the signs of liver disease.

"Oh this is my Testosterone." he explained. "I'm just warming it up so the nurse can give me a shot."

Then he waved his hands over his body and grinned. "It keeps all of this working."

I think that was to assure me that he might be old but with a little chemical help he was a fully functioning fellow.

Then he said, "How about you give me your phone number and we can talk some more?"

Just then, my nurse called me into the office.  Phew. She and I got the giggles when I told her that I had just been hit on by a stranger in the waiting room. 

When I left the office, he was gone. I saw him getting into his pickup truck in front of the building. I was parked around the side.

"Hey, Hey! " he yelled.

I kept walking. I mean at my age it would be perfectly normal if I were hard of hearing.

As I drove out, he pulled up to my vehicle and rolled down his window.  I just smiled, waved and drove off. He didn't follow--I checked.

It had been so long since I had been so blatantly hit on I was totally unprepared. You either use it or lose it and that applies to snappy comebacks.   I really didn't have a handy line that would let him know in a kindly fashion I wasn't interested since "not really" didn't register.

When I told my support group at lunch, they really had fun with it. One of the ladies asked me if I were worried  and I said. "No, pretty sure even with my bad lungs I could out shuffle him:)"

Now what I need from you is a cool but kindly exit line if for some reason I am put in that position again. This is a small town and I will very likely run into him again. Thanks for your help.