A Man's Mid Life Crisis
A Bit Too Close to Home
A Funny Story
Getting older is a bittersweet experience at the best of times. A man in his thirties, like me, is young enough what it's like to be young but not old enough to buy slippers and start gardening. In many ways we are the forgotten age group as we aren't young and not quite middle aged. This poses problems, major problems when it comes to fashion and women in particular. Us thirtysomethings walk a tightrope between dressing like Justin Bieber and the man from the Werther's Originals commercials.
This is age at which the mid life crisis begins. The exact age of the mid life crisis depends on when the guy settled down in some sort of domestic arrangement. I settled down at 23 so have 12 years of homebuilding under my belt - incidentallymy belt is now 36 inches instead of 26 inches! A separation under my belt and a new fitness regime underway, I have recently begun an exciting new life of clubbing, drinking and vomiting. Being 35, drunk and reminiscent for your early twenties makes you do very strange things. You talk to strange women, you start the odd fight and you eat the odd dubious lamb based meat in pita bread.
I had a horrible experience recently and have a really hard time talking about it. To an outsider I'm sure it's hilarious but for me it's a nightmare inducing, colon crunching, therapy busting horror story. As it's hard for me to talk about and as part of my therapy, I thought I'd put it to verse.
It's good to arrive, now im thirty five,
At places of lust, cologne is a must.
A flick of the brow, I point to the ceiling
A deafening crack and I lose all feeling.
To bury my shame, to prove I'm not lame,
I crawl to the bar, it's just so damn far.
A climb on a stool, I order a beer,
My audience laughs and give out a cheer.
A drink drank with haste, a horrible taste,
I look like a lout, I might just pass out.
The time is upon me, the exit is clear,
But maybe there's time for just one more beer.
My brain is now lazy, my eyes seem so hazy,
When out of the night, appears such a sight.
A sexy young woman, gives me the eye,
My luck may be changing, I straighten my tie.
A furtive side glance, I'm now in a trance,
I shuffle close by and give it a try.
She takes just one look, moves where she sits,
"I'm sorry old man, I don't like your tits!"
This is Me on a Typical Night Out
Another Wild Holiday!
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