I’m drunk as crap right now. But I’m putting forth a posit that’s been in my brain for a while: Proof positive that it’s beyond wishful, optimistic thinking:
We really are old.
Christopher and I just attended a drag show. We were excited. It was advertised as doors open at 6:30 PM. Perfect! We both “squeeeee’d” with anticipation and giggled at it being an early hour when it was announced.
It’s now 9:58 PM and we are home, yet unsettled at what we waited for. We drank happy hour – had a blast. And waited outside the venue for 30 minutes past the advertised time until they finally opened the doors (and I could pee – thank God!). We ordered more drinks. Then some fries. Then more drinks. Finally our awaited stars did appear… Appear they did. And that’s about it.
Which goes to my point. What was the point of this? Did we magically think we’d be awestruck by these performers? …yet again? With no production value other their own names? As they have disapointed us before? The sad truth sinked in, at least for me. This is not ametuer night. But wait, we’re 40-something! We’ve had YEARS of experience in this!……
Oh. OK. Sigh. Damn. We are in no way in-shape for this exactly tonight. We have become, in a life-360-way, …the amaetuers.
As we truly staggered and walked our way back home, as middle-aged life citizens, I began to reflect. I loved that I could do this with my husband – my one. My all. But the focus of the evening was so vapid, so, not…valid any more. I had the most fun just being out with the man I love. And that is when I realized.
It’s OK to be old. This is the “THE LINE” I am happy to cross. My husband may have some differing opinions when we rise tomorrow morning, but I’m still now smiling. That’s the fun give-and-take. It was a fun night afterall, and I love him more than anything through our journey in life.
Good night. Good, Old people.