Mid-life (crisis, that is)

When I was 20 years old I thought that 44 was such an old age. I pictured anyone that age as a doddering, decrepit, nursing home candidate. I certainly didn't envision myself as 44.

"No, none for me, thank you. I'm going to be twenty forever."

Now that I am 44, I'm glad I was wrong, for the most part anyway. Occasionally, I have awakened, usually after a night misspent trying to recapture my lost youth...okay, maybe misspent is a little harsh...and wondered...well, I forget what I have wondered, but I assure you, it will come to me sooner or later...just give me a minute. I do know that waking up in the morning and getting up out of bed is no picnic...okay, the waking up part is a picnic, considering the alternative. My point being that when you reach a certain age everything hurts at one time or another. There is still a lot of moaning going on in the bedroom, but now it's just from trying get out of bed.

I have a daughter who is 24 years old (aw jeez, I'm old!) and she sits squarely where I did, when I was her age, secure in the knowledge that her dad is a doddering, decrepit, nursing home candidate. This truly angers me and if I can just lure her close enough I will bop her with my cane.

Romancing in the 40s...no, not the 1940s, you wisenheimer...I'm referring to middle-age dating, which on the face of it, does have a certain unappealing imagery until I remember that I'm middle-aged and certainly not unappealing. Well, I don't think so anyway. In the past, my looks were enough to get an in with the women. Now I find that I have to sneak up on them and talk fast, hoping to amuse them and endear myself enough so that when they do get a good look “Eh, he'll do” will be the foremost thought in their mind. Not exactly along the line of “He's hot!”, but I can work with it.

At my age, when it comes to women, I have also learned exactly what is meant by the phrase "quality, not quantity," a lesson which, at some level, also saddens me. Ah, forgive me. I was lost in realization for a minute. Now, I'm truly depressed. Oh, well, all in all, getting old is not as bad as I thought it would be. It just creeps up on you faster than you think. No sour grapes for me, however. I just keep reminding myself I'm not getting older, I'm getting bitter.