Just Too Damn Old

I have recently discovered I am just too damn old.  Yep, at 36 I have reached the stage in my life where some things just no longer appeal to me.

I had a conversation last night with one of my best friends.  She invited me to a hotel Pajama Party in her city (about an hour away or so).  My initial reaction was tentative because that is just not my thing.  I did co-ed pajama frat parties in college and of and on during my early 20’s and it was fun, but I have outgrown that kind of thing. 

However, because she is my oldest friend and her life has gone through some major changes in the last few months I agreed to go. 

Her life has changed so much so that now her party gene is in overdrive; that coupled with the fact I ditched the last affair she planned like this had me feeling slightly obligated to attend.  Well… then the conversation turned to the fact that she has planned this event on a night a police officer she knows will be working in case the party got too rowdy. 

Hmmmm…  At that very moment I realized I was too damn old.  Apparently, some of the guests have a rowdy streak that makes it quite likely the party will be wild enough to remind me of the frat parties of old.  Yep, I’m too damn old. 

I accepted I was too damn old, but then my mind began to ask if I had gotten old and boring. 

*SIGH* 

You never want to have this conversation at 7AM while you are trying to find clean drawers and a work outfit that requires minimum ironing.  It’s bad enough on your ego when your morning routine includes looking at granny panties while trying to choose an outfit you can wear your “comfortable” shoes with.  Or worse you don’t give a damn anymore and just hope no one notices your shoes were chosen for support rather than style.  Add in the finding out you are too damn old and the day is guaranteed to suck.     

But, alas, I had it out with myself to determine if I was a boring old codger destined for tapioca pudding and flat ginger ale.

Well, I scored one point with the tapioca because the thought of lumpy pudding still disgusts me.  I LOVE ginger ale though… Shit! 

I guess my preference for quieter entertainment that is never destined to end in a call to the police may be the beginning of the end for me.  Oh well, I guess I’ll go check the Smithsonian website for new exhibits and plan my next weekend of reading, relaxing and museum trolling.  Old age is not as bad as I thought it would be.  Who knows maybe now that my youthful party days are behind me I can get a discount or something.