So, I'm another year older. Fucking hell, right? How did this happen already? And so quickly?
I blinked and we were already half way through 2009. I turned my head and it's the end of August, my birthday came and went, and summer is close to done. I half expected Christmas to be in my hallway when I opened up my apartment door this morning, and no doubt every friggin Target from Boston to San Francisco already has their fake trees lined up and ready to sell.
Time is a real tricksy motherfucker. It can be your best friend when you acknowledge and respect its power and influence, but it can also shove your face in the mud when suddenly you realize another year has passed and you struggle to think about where the hell it all went. Days can feel long, yet weeks whiz by. Seasons sometimes feel too long or too short, yet the months skip along merrily at their even pace, forcing me to flip my calendar to the next half-naked NYC Fireman of the Month. I want to really enjoy that calendar, but just when I feel like I've developed a good relationship with Mr. August, I have to prepare my goodbyes to him and start chatting up Mr. September. What a slut.
I've always said that I want to age gracefully, and I think I will for the most part. Our youth obsessed culture makes it difficult to really embrace getting older, however, I'm bound and determined to enjoy it. Naturally, I don't want any wrinkles, I want to superglue my hair to my scalp, I want a steady 5% bodyfat ratio until I'm 90, and if my penis shrinks, I'll just die.
In thinking of aging gracefully, I'm reminded of an experience where I did absolutely nothing of the sort and put "gracefully" on the shelf to replace it with "wrathfully".
I was on vacation in Florida for "Gay Days" in Orlando at Disney World. That's an entirely separate blog all together, but for the sake of setting the scene, look at the above pic and just imagine many hundreds, likely over a thousand, half-naked gay men sunning themselves by the hotel pools during the day, running amok at a different theme park each night, circuit party dance music piped in from everywhere, and mixed drink stations every 200 feet. Mind you, I don't typically find myself mixing in these crowds, but for the sake of experience I thought I might give it a go one year. It was an absolute blast.
So, it was a hot, sunny, Saturday early afternoon and I was in the pool wrapped around this blond guy who I met while down there. We floated in between all the other boys who were paired up with other boys in similar fashion and we sidled up next to this cute couple. One was very young and had himself wrapped around the other, probably in his early 30s, both floating along and giggling flirtatiously. They were lovey dovey and we thought they seemed fun so we struck up a conversation with them.
Right off the bat, the first (and only) icebreaker used was the "Guess How Old I Am" game. Blondie and I each took our guesses and were pretty spot on, the young one was just barely 21. They each looked at Blondie and guessed somewhere in the appropriate age range, maybe flattered him with a year or two off of what his actual age was.
Then, the twinky 21-year-old turned to me and began assessing my face, so I smiled and asked, "Okay, so how old do you think I am?" He kind of cocked his head to the side, squinted his eyes and pouted his lips, synapses trying so desperately to spark something inside his vacant brain. He shook himself out of his "thinking-mode" with a little jolt and a roll of his eyes and chirped, "Oh I don't know...thirrrtyyy...four?"
I was 26 years old.
In my head, I drowned him.
In actuality, I squawked something completely nonsensical, splashed him, threw out a profanity or two and then told him to get fucked, which, in retrospect, wasn't any kind of insult because that was the whole purpose of the trip for him.
Attempt at aging gracefully: Failed.
It will happen. I have my anti-aging night cream at my bedside, but I've also got a decent head on my shoulders which I hope will steer me into truly enjoying the coming years of adulthood. The decent head must, however, retain all hair for this mission to be successful.