Still Too Young, Still Too Old
In 51 hours I leave the sweet, sea-scented San Diego air and depart for the fishy-smelling metropolis of Tokyo. (Well, the city doesn't actually smell like fish. Far from it. But each train station sits near a number of food stands and restaurants, so my oversensitive schnoz always picks up the scent).A full day and a half later I'll end my 18 year and 4 month march of single-hood.
18 years.
In another (conveniently symmetrical) 18 years, my soon-to-arrive child will be an adult, ...here's why that scrambles my formerly comfortable grip on reality:
I still feel like a kid. A few years ago I read a Dilbert cartoon where he confessed that he felt like a 15 year old kid walking around in an older shell hoping no one would notice. I can relate.
I never did figure women out. I still feel like a peon around adults, even though the "adult" may very well be my exact age. I still lose all brain function in the presence of a beautiful girl (even a young one).
On the other hand, ...I don't like the company of young people either. If I accidentally listen to more than 20 seconds of conversation between two people below the age of 25, my brain starts to ooze out of my ears.
I cannot fathom the next 18 years, but the last 18 felt like 2. I still remember high school. I still remember cruising the strip on Friday nights, hanging out at Southridge mall, and living off of McDonald's drive-thru. I can still hear "In the still of the night" by Whitesnake blaring out of the back of a Camaro. I can still smell the 80's mix of cigarettes, hairspray, and leather that preceded bra-fumbling and back seat gymnastics.
I don't feel significantly more mature today. Sure, in some ways I am, but not in any way I imagined. Perhaps my view of adulthood was wrong all along.
Adulthood is not synonymous with stability, maturity, wisdom, comfort, satisfaction, achievement, or happiness.
It's just like your life as a post-childhood single guy, ...just a lot less fun, with potentially less variety, more heartache, more worry, higher stakes, and less chance for a risk-taking grasp at the brass ring.
This past weekend I talked to an old girlfriend who said my whole movement towards marriage and fatherhood was "weird". By that, she meant that I had always been the kind of guy who resisted those things, and now, in the span of a few months, I was committed all the way.
She's right, to an extent. She was the last girl I dated where thoughts of the future were non-existent. It is partly because of her that my outlook on life changed. I knew for certain that I did not want to be with her forever, ...and for some reason that bothered me. I kept asking myself why I was in the relationship at all. Suddenly, "sex" and "boredom" and "waiting for something better" were not good answers.
For some reason, I had started to want more.
How about that, ...it looks like I HAVE matured after all.
Somewhat.
But, like Homer once said, "I guess people really don't change. Or, ...they change and then quickly change back."
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