Real stories about dating and relationships in New York City. Truth is more interesting than fiction.

The Middle Ages

The Middle Ages i am not a role model batshit crazy  I am 42. Forty fucking two.  Sometimes I have to check myself, do the math. I was born in 1970 and it’s 2012 2013… so I must be 42. As unreal as that seems.

I’ve been having MAJOR issues lately, re my and aging.  Each trip to the bathroom is stressful, as I’m forced to look in the mirror and see my unfamiliar face. I don’t recognize that old-looking woman in the mirror. She looks a little like my mother. But otherwise, she seems entirely foreign to me. A bad joke.

Lately, I’ve been strangely(or maybe not so strangely) drawn to pictures of myself. Not old pictures. Relatively recent ones. From before I started to look so . I stare at one, from just a couple of years ago, and wonder how I could still be that same person. Am I still that same person?

But I digress. Even more than usual. I just wanted to let you in on my state of mind before I told you this short, pointless story.

I was on line at my pharmacy, waiting to pick up some prescription or another. I usually have my earbuds in. Volume up on some podcast. But this day I’d left my phone at home. Desperate for a few moments of freedom. Away from all technological chains.

There was a woman in front of me. She reminded me of my mom, a little.  Short, fat, no makeup, careless clothes, messy hair.  She seemed like someone who’d stopped caring a long time ago. Like she was playing the role of, “middle-aged housewife” on some bad sitcom.

I was probably staring at her.  I just couldn’t look away. Couldn’t stop thinking, PLEASE oh please don’t let me ever look like that. I won’t let myself be that person. I started to wonder what she looked like before. Did she ever take good care of herself? Ever make an effort?  I admit that my temporary obsession with her was mean and condescending. And extremely judgmental.

And who am I to talk?

But there I was, obsessing over her.

Anyway, I overheard the cashier ask her date of birth. She was my age. 42.

Gulp.


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