My sad stalker...

Okay, so I have mentioned my stalker before...(90 years old, only a few teeth, very very inappropriate), but maybe I should mention a bit more about him...
He actually used to be very handsome from the photos I've seen in his room, he had the most beautiful wife that looked like a moviestar (she has the same colour hair as me and is very petite - explaining his fetish with me), he used to be a mining engineer and he used to be a very good artist.  He drew me the other day (after asking if he can draw me naked first) and he is still pretty good.
So yes, he is extremely inappropriate with me and says horrible things that he wants to do with me/to me on a regular basis, but he is one of the people in the frail care centre that gets the most from OT (and not just because he can hit my bum every 2 minutes or try to kiss me from time to time) and he reminds me daily that these people had a whole live before they ended up in an institution.. 
Before he had frontal lobe dementia that took all his inhibitions away, he used to be a someone...He used to be a boy who loved building puzzles and saw the beauty in everything and therefore started drawing.  He used to be a young gentleman in love with a beautiful wife thinking he is the happiest man on earth.  He used to be someone's son, someone's husband, someone's dad and someone's best friend.  And because of all these reasons I forgive him for trying to kiss me or lick me in the neck or tell me in graphical detail what he will do to me in his room, because he cannot help this.  This is not all he is, there is more to my stalker than just what the eye sees and the ear hears... 
My favorite conversation with him was when we talked about suprises one day and I asked him if his wife ever suprised him.  His answer was..."She suprised me every day..."