Age is nothing but a number. That’s what we tend to say when we want to justify our actions. It’s most commonly seen in situations where we choose to date someone significantly younger or older than us. “So what?” we say to ourselves; it doesn’t matter that we’re three decades apart, what matters is how we feel inside. There is some truth to that logic, don’t get me wrong. For example, when a seventy five year old man says he feels thirty five, I believe that. I see him working out every day and he’s in better shape than I was at twenty. Excuse me, but when a hot young blonde marries a geezer because “they’re in love”, I call bullshit.
So where does one draw the line? How old is too old? It does have a bit of an umbrella thing going on so it would have to cover a few things. For instance, the line for “too young” has been drawn. There is a drinking age, driving age, and let’s not forget about those over developed fifteen year olds that walk the streets of the 21st century causing statutory rapes and whatnot. Sorry, “Age is nothing but a number” won’t fly in court. Perhaps there isn’t and will never be an official solid line for how old too old is. Perhaps all we can do is rely on “the feeling” and our so called “better” judgement in this case. I for one constantly find myself in situations that Murtaugh in Lethal Weapon finds himself in, and yet for some reason my life keeps casting me in these sequels that no one cares for. So here’s the breakdown of my very own “I’M TOO OLD FOR THIS SHIT” Series.
- HE SAID/SHE SAID – Also known as middle school bullshit that quite frankly instead of staying in middle school where it semi belongs, travels into the homes and lives of most adults. Rumors, tales and misconstrued information – Aint nobody got time for that! Well actually, people get pretty crafty when it comes to finding time for talking shit. It’s not like it takes a lot of effort or energy or anything. You don’t have to stand in line to express your opinions or “findings”.. You don’t even have to know what you’re talking about; you can just make things up as you go. I can’t think of anyone I know personally that doesn’t partake in the shit talking activity, myself included. We’re all guilty of it, it’s just a matter of how much – taking a candy from the store without paying for it vs blowing up the whole damn store to the ground kind of thing. I’m definitely too old to be walking around blowing shit up and out of proportions.
- ALL-NIGHTERS – There used to be a time when I would be able to drink all night, never go to sleep, watch the sun rise from an abandoned rooftop, then pop into a coffee shop and go straight to work – same clothes and all. Granted I had the luxury of wearing whatever to work back then, including hooker heels and slip on dresses, but that’s beside the point. I remember having loads of energy and the ability to just constantly keep going. The energizer bunny had nothing on me. Now? I don’t stand a chance against that long eared prick. I can’t pull an all-nighter even without the drinking; I need my sleep to function. Getting old here, yo.
- SLEEPOVERS – Same thing. I can’t tell you how many different places I found myself waking up in the morning. The conditions in which to sleep in didn’t matter back then. Don’t try and scare me with your loveseat. I can manage with half of my body on the cushions and my head on the adjacent floor and not only sleep in that position until ungodly hours of the day but also wake up with no signs of back pain or neck strains. Correction – could. Now? Forget it. Sleeping in conditions that are less than perfect takes a serious toll on my operating abilities during the day. Don’t get me wrong, a random sleepover will still slip through the cracks every now and then; too much to drink; too far to drive; I’m on vacation so fuck it, etc. But ultimately, I’m way too old for sleepovers. I would much rather sleep at home on my super comfortable bed with my amazing pillow, both of which I am in a long and serious relationship with. We belong together.
- ROOMMATES – I’ve done the roommate thing several times, with both pleasant and horrific outcomes. Having a roommate certainly has its advantages – Cheaper rent and someone to keep you company on a Sunday night or whatever. The list ends there for me. I need to feel comfortable in my home, and if feeling comfortable requires me to walk around naked or make myself an elaborate snack at 2 in the morning then I want to be able to do that without being concerned about disturbing the peace of another person living two feet away from my kitchen. I also like to keep things clean, organized and stocked. Not having the power to control what your roommates’ hands and mouths consume without replenishing isn’t something I’m particularly fond of in a living situation. I’m too old to deal with other people’s whining and their random guests. I’m also too old to clean the hair off the bathroom floor that’s not my own. When you live alone, that problem is non-existent. The only standards you have to live up to are your own and the only person responsible for making any sort of mess is yourself so you can’t even get mad.
Of course there’s always a possibility of yet another sequel but let’s face it, the gist is pretty much covered. Anything else would be redundant. Bottom line is there comes a time when you just can’t do certain things anymore, but unlike with “too young”, official limits can’t be set. So do your thang while you can. One day you’ll wake up and be like “Fuck. I’m too old for this shit”.