Feeling Old

(Sorry, more navel-gazing.)

I had an epiphany the other day.

I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about how old I am. I notice that I'm usually at the older end of the spectrum in many of the circles I keep. Little things. The movies you saw growing up. The stupid little things you know that are history, like, really history, now. Usually it isn't too bad. I'm amused by it. It's kinda fun. I put on airs as "the old man." You were born in the 80's?! Wow, scary.

I call attention to it. Bigger, faster, stronger? No? Well, older then. So there! Show some respect, I'm old.

You might say I dwell on it sometimes.

And, well... I am getting older. Duh. But I've started to feel it catching up. More injuries, slower recovery time. I don't look like I'm in my twenties anymore. Early thirties maybe, but the illusion is beginning to slip away. And I just had a birthday a short while ago that's brought me ever closer to the big four-oh. I've edged out of the comfortable mid-thirties and am sitting uncomfortably on the cusp of my late-thirties. Thirty was good. Thirty was old enough to relax, old enough to appreciate, old enough (or perhaps I should say, young enough) to enjoy. I had a better sense of who I was (am), what my strengths (and weaknesses) were (are). The thirties have been about getting some perspective. A start, at least. The thirties have been treating me well ...for the most part. In an age sort of way.

But there's definitely a stigma about forty.

So the epiphany came when I was poking around Flickr and found a friend's pictures which included some pictures of her new man. And I thought (and I recognize how shallow and judgmental this is, but truth be told, I thought)

Wow, he looks old.

Not like old old, but like, well, old. Like an adult. A grown up. A real grown up, not like me who's been faking grown up only when he's had to.

I picture us stopping in for a visit and having to act all mature and talk about finance or the key events in the war of 1812. I imagine myself feeling uncomfortable during an awkward silence, after which he asks about what I do for a living or what my plans for the future are. Plans are? Like, what are you going to do when you grow up? Crazy shit, all playing out in my head. I'm not thinking about what he'd be like, I'm thinking about what a grown up would be like talking to a kid. That kid being me. And I catch myself. Because when I think about it, he doesn't look old. He looks like someone my age, actually. I mean, he could be older, but he could be younger too. And then it hit me.

He looks older than I feel.

Sure I've got a mortgage and a real car and a job and...stuff. But I spend as much time as possible doing stuff that just doesn't feel, well, like grown up stuff. I want to run around and play. Eat ice cream for a snack. Maybe breakfast. Or dinner. Read comic books. Dance. Play games. Nap.* "Kid stuff."

I don't feel old.

I feel young.

And I guess that's probably a good thing.

*funny how I never wanted to nap when we actually had mandatory naps in kindergarten.