My Inner Old Man

I can’t wait to become an old man because then I can have an actual reason for not keeping up with the current culture. It’s not that I openly reject it or anything, I find it to be actually quite nice. But I get so wrapped up in my mundane existence and frantic thoughts that I have a social handicap. I’m behind everyone else six months or more. I would be that idiot who would hear Rolling In The Deep on the radio and go “Have you heard this yet!? It’s incredible!” And everyone would laugh, of course after saying “Yeah, it was amazing when it came out a year ago”. Then I die a little of embarrassment, try to tell a quick joke to distract, or maybe a small dance, anything to turn the conversation away.
But it’s no secret that I am a bit of a sucker for the old fashion way of life. I almost feel like I should list ‘Nostalgia’ under my hobbies. My inner old man shows several times a day, like when I’m lounging in my robe listening to The Dave Brubeck Quartet’s ‘Take Five’ on my record player. And you don’t know who Dave Brubeck is because you are not an old man such as myself. And I think that must be the greatest reason in my favor. I have such a hard time keeping up on the times because I’m so preoccupied on keeping tabs on the past. Another way my inner old man shows itself is when I wake up at 6:30 on a Sunday, watch a public access show on PBS and maybe go do my grocery shopping, and be back home by 8.
I always dreamed of living in the time of Humphrey Bogart, wearing white dinner jackets, smoking indoors, talking really fast, a bit of casual sexual harassment, and occasionally slapping women when they start acting like ‘typical hysterical women’ (Sidenote: This is all being said in satire. I do not condone casual or any form of sexual harassment, and I do not slap women, unless of course they hit me first. My mom always said I could hit a girl if they hit me first because I am a tiny framed man).
I’m a huge technophobe. I hate cell phones, and only reluctantly got a cell phone recently last year because ‘People worry about you when you disappear for vast amounts of time’. I was born with the family isolation gene. We are overwhelmingly independent and solitary people. This of course leads to an alarming number of relatives who talk to themselves. Lately I’ve been catching myself talking to myself at work, and then going ‘Stop talking to yourself’ only to appreciate the irony that I am still talking to myself by saying that.
But I do fall behind on the times. I seriously did not know who Nicki Minaj was for the longest time. How does that happen? But I must say, after finding out who she was, I was ok with not keeping up on her. I can’t help but feel old. I may only be 21, but everywhere I look it seems like everyone is younger than me. The kids in the neighborhood are vicious little bastards who shout things at me, and all I can think is “That used to be me!!! I used to be one calling older people fags as I shot past them on my bike!!!” I don’t even have a bike anymore!
I can’t pull all nighters anymore. Hell, I can barely pull off a partial nighter anymore. For the first time in my life, I’m finding myself climbing into bed around 9:30. When I was a teenager, 9:30 was usually the time I left my house to go do something. And with all the work I do in the hardware store, I come home with sore feet, bitch about my day, and act lazy on the couch. Remind you of anyone? Because it sure reminds me a helluva lot like my dad.
But it’s not as if I became like this as soon as I entered adulthood. When I was 15 years old, sitting up in the morning with a cup of coffee, perusing the various daily newspapers or watching meetings of the Warren City Council, I knew I acted like an old man. When I was 12, I used to go to the library and check out John Grisham novels. What kind of 12 year old does that?
Also, I’ve always been a huge fan of slippers.
I think I will enjoy growing old. I can just sit around all day, be rude and obnoxious and have delusional people deem it sweet and adorable. I think I will enjoy that immensely.