A (sadly) true case of mistaken identity

So there I was, the perennial forlorn husband, alone on a bench in a store while my wife Liz did some shopping. At a jewelry counter a few feet away, a middle-aged woman was discussing an item with a clerk while her (I assume) husband stood by, looking like he too would really rather be somewhere else.

I should mention, before going on, that this guy appeared to be about my age, and that both of us have white hair. (Which, in my case, I routinely describe as "gray," until Liz corrects me with her usual vigor.)

Anyway, the white-haired husband at the jewelry counter eventually wandered off. Moments later, his wife decided she wanted to consult him.

"Where did he go?" she asked the clerk, who looked around for a minute and then jutted her chin toward me. "He's sitting over there on that bench," the clerk said.

The missing husband returned just in time to overhear this exchange, so he and I were both in on the mix-up. We eyed one another for a few seconds, sizing each other up like aging Sharks and Jets from a senior-citizen remake of West Side Story. 

We didn't say a word, but I know both of us had precisely the same reaction to the clerk's error: "What the hell was she thinking? Is she blind? I'm way better looking than that guy."