Night of the 20-Somethings
These days it seems as though someone around every corner is throwing it in my face- intentionally or not- that I am no longer the hip 20-something I once was.
Of course, now I am a hip 30-something, and there once was a TV show about this age group (which used to be one of my faves in high school), and it seems like 20-something was just yesterday.
:: Wistful sigh ::
Last night I attended a friend of a friend's brother's wedding. It was beautiful. Filled with beautiful speeches I could only hope someone could ever give one-half of for me. Lots of young love. Lots of 20-something fun. You know the kind. The kind that my friend and I tried to have and we just got That Look from the young hipsters. You know That Look. The one that says, half-pitingly, "Oh, look at the old ones try to be hip. I bet they once stood a chance. You know, back in the day." I know That Look because a decade ago I was shooting it right and left.
After said reception, which was fun, Rafferty and I drove off to Trinity Pub to meet up with another friend. Lo and behold, who should be there but the non-dressed-up carbon copies of the group we just left. Maybe even younger. Unfreakingbelievable.
You know you're in trouble when (a) some Mom is boozing with a gaggle of kids (probably because she is trying to recreate her 20-somethings); (b) rowdy 20-somethings, naturally drunk, are taking hold of the bar. Drunken Lord of the Flies comparison possible; and, (c) you ask someone what they're celebrating- because with so many of them, it looks as though they must be celebrating something- and you get this blank look, you see a flicker of a lightbulb in those transparent eyes, and you get, "Oh, nothing. Just Saturday night."
Just Saturday night. I remember when that was the excuse for Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday -- and all day Sunday. "Just [insert day here]." Essentially, "Just because I can." I wanted so badly to tell the poor girl, "Enjoy it because in a few years you're going to be getting That Look and you'll enjoy a quiet night in as opposed to this loud night out. And that's Ok. But you're going to look back and wonder when it happened and why it was so quick and why didn't anyone warn you."
But me not being that nice of a person decided that further communication with someone barely old enough to be in there was fruitless. Plus, no one told me, so why should be bother?
Last night made me realize just how fast those 20-something years go. And though I'd love to have just one night (preferrably a weekend one) back, I don't mind my life now. It's actually more stable than those 20-something years. I guess I've grown up. I still feel like I'm 20-something and still look like I'm 20-something. I just have the responsibilities of someone who is not just barely drinking age. And that's Ok.
Instead last night gave me a great excuse to get dressed up (I adored my springy, "Riviera" dress), have a good free meal, enjoy a nice open bar (enough said), and partake in a self-created after-party where more than a few whispers made their way about us as we walked in. We were the most dressed up that bar ever saw, and I do so love attention. Even if it is from a 20-something.
Of course, now I am a hip 30-something, and there once was a TV show about this age group (which used to be one of my faves in high school), and it seems like 20-something was just yesterday.
:: Wistful sigh ::
Last night I attended a friend of a friend's brother's wedding. It was beautiful. Filled with beautiful speeches I could only hope someone could ever give one-half of for me. Lots of young love. Lots of 20-something fun. You know the kind. The kind that my friend and I tried to have and we just got That Look from the young hipsters. You know That Look. The one that says, half-pitingly, "Oh, look at the old ones try to be hip. I bet they once stood a chance. You know, back in the day." I know That Look because a decade ago I was shooting it right and left.
After said reception, which was fun, Rafferty and I drove off to Trinity Pub to meet up with another friend. Lo and behold, who should be there but the non-dressed-up carbon copies of the group we just left. Maybe even younger. Unfreakingbelievable.
You know you're in trouble when (a) some Mom is boozing with a gaggle of kids (probably because she is trying to recreate her 20-somethings); (b) rowdy 20-somethings, naturally drunk, are taking hold of the bar. Drunken Lord of the Flies comparison possible; and, (c) you ask someone what they're celebrating- because with so many of them, it looks as though they must be celebrating something- and you get this blank look, you see a flicker of a lightbulb in those transparent eyes, and you get, "Oh, nothing. Just Saturday night."
Just Saturday night. I remember when that was the excuse for Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday -- and all day Sunday. "Just [insert day here]." Essentially, "Just because I can." I wanted so badly to tell the poor girl, "Enjoy it because in a few years you're going to be getting That Look and you'll enjoy a quiet night in as opposed to this loud night out. And that's Ok. But you're going to look back and wonder when it happened and why it was so quick and why didn't anyone warn you."
But me not being that nice of a person decided that further communication with someone barely old enough to be in there was fruitless. Plus, no one told me, so why should be bother?
Last night made me realize just how fast those 20-something years go. And though I'd love to have just one night (preferrably a weekend one) back, I don't mind my life now. It's actually more stable than those 20-something years. I guess I've grown up. I still feel like I'm 20-something and still look like I'm 20-something. I just have the responsibilities of someone who is not just barely drinking age. And that's Ok.
Instead last night gave me a great excuse to get dressed up (I adored my springy, "Riviera" dress), have a good free meal, enjoy a nice open bar (enough said), and partake in a self-created after-party where more than a few whispers made their way about us as we walked in. We were the most dressed up that bar ever saw, and I do so love attention. Even if it is from a 20-something.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home