It's funny how much you change as you get older. As we get older, we desperately try to hang onto any semblance of cool. I've seen 40 year old men at the gym trying to bench press twice their own body weight (which only results in pulled muscles and no desire to come back after the soreness has worn off). I've seen 45 year old dudes complaining about the noise levels at concerts nearly reduced to tears at the realization that he really has no business down in the pit. And we've all seen the 50 year old guy cruising around in a new sports car, sunglasses, 25 year old Hooter's girlfriend, and a balding dome bright enough to harness solar energy for small 3rd world countries.
However, it's not just men who suffer through this. At Target, we've all seen suburban moms driving demon-spawn vehicles (fucking mini-vans) who buy a Red Hot Chili Peppers CD for that one slow song only to realize that these are the guys who wore socks over their schlongs. We've seen 45 year old women still trying to wear hip huggers sporting enough ice on their fingers to fund the state of Rhode Island. And yes, we've seen 50 year old women at the club with her 25 year old daughter, both trying to pick up the same 30 year old guy.
I finally fell victim (albeit ever so slightly) to my aging phenom. In the midst of my red eye infection, I needed to pick up my prescription at Target. Being my first time at this particular pharmacy, I have to fill in the questionaire prompted by a young pharmacy tech who was reminiscent of Cedric the Entertainer with the only real difference being that she was actually entertaining and funny.
As we go through the quick form, we come to a question about booze and if I used it regularly. I found myself stumbling to explain that I would have a couple of beers a couple of times a month, but no more than that. I'm a social drinker you know. I mean, I get a little tipsy now and then, but nothing crazy. This went on for a good minute or two as I tried to justify the damage I do to my liver on a regular basis.
As she left to get my prescription, it hit me how much I've changed in 10 years. At age 26, I might have said something like "Hell yeah, I drink. Shit, I'm drunk now! Tonight the Monastery has $1.50 Coronas. You and your friends should go meet us out there."
Now, the one-time Spicoli wannabe from a small town in New Mexico is reduced to justifying the 3 or 4 beers he has during a monthly outing. Getting older sucks ass.