A few months ago, Brian and I went out for a night on the town while my mom (older, wiser, mentor mother) offered so graciously to keep the boys. We decided to go to an upscale bar/grill with good food and live music. This is not a downtown, barely 20’s, meat-market, college, dance hall-type establishment. It’s a nice place. I looked around and noticed that the majority demographic was that of one less advanced in years than we. I pointed this out to Brian who promptly told me to speak for myself. (He is 8 months younger than me and LOVES IT.)
Me: Seriously. Don't you notice this more and more often?
Brian: No, I don't.
Me: Brian, don't you remember when you used to say when referring to a co-worker or colleague, 'He’s older than us, he is in his late 30's or so?' We are quickly approaching that. (1/2 empty)
Brian: Yeah, but we're not there yet. (1/2 full)
Me: Regardless, it is not a qualified statement to say ‘someone in their late 30s or early 40s is quite a bit older than us’ anymore.
Brian (looking around): We are not some of the oldest people in here. You are just saying that because earlier there were high school homecoming kids here.
Me: No, they are dancing in the gym now. They have been replaced by mid-to-late-20 and early-30-year-olds. Look around.
Brian (looking around a bit more desperately): We are younger than a few tables in here. Look at them.
Me (looking at the silver-haired group down the way): Yup, we are younger than them.
Brian: And them.
Me (Looking at a table of 4 that I have been watching for a while): That is because that is a mom and dad taking their daughter and boyfriend out to dinner.
Brian: Well we are younger than half of them.
Me: Whatever. You are reaching. We are getting older and you have to deal with it.
I must interject here that Brian literally doesn't remember how old he is. A few days before his 33rd birthday, I started commenting about approaching his mid 30s.
Brian: I'm not approaching mid-30s.
Me: Well, not exactly, but 33 is getting there (1/2 empty)
Brian: It would be if I was going to be 33, but I'm not.
Me (thinking he was kidding): You're not?
Me: Oh yeah, how old are you going to be, 29 again?
Brian: No, 31
Me: (realizing he means this) No you're not. This is the year you turn 33.
Brian: Are you sure about that?
Brian: Huh. I have been telling people at work all week that I am going to be 31
Me: Well, you lied.
I have a great group of girlfriends from church. We do a lot of girls’ nights outs and try to get together a few times a month. I had suspected that I was one of the older ones, but didn’t know to what degree. Eventually, I found out I am the oldest. Three are above 30 and the other four are still below. The funny part about this group is that I have established myself, unintentionally, as intelligent and wise. They are bright, beautiful, educated insightful women that I adore, so this should be an honor. I told Brian that I thought I was possibly the oldest in this group, so when I learned this truth, I told him when I arrived home that night.
Brian: Yup, you are getting old.
Me: The funny part is that they think I am smart, too.
Brian: You are smart.
Me: Well, I don’t like to come across as too smart to people I don’t know well yet so they won’t be intimidated by my superior intelligence.
Brian: (ignores me)
Me: Seriously, though. I was actually told tonight that I know a lot about stuff.
Brian: (giggles. Not a smirk or sigh, but an AUDIBLE giggle.)
Brian: Sorry. Really?
When I told him the comment arose after I defined the difference between a taquito and a flauta, he laughed out loud.