A new view of life in the middle ages

Image courtesy pixabay.com.

I can hardly believe it, but by the time you read this column, I’ll be married to a middle-aged man.

Zak, my dear husband who was barely legal when we met — and used to be two grades younger (as he likes to remind me) than I am (but only 19 months younger, as I like to remind him) — turned 40 on April 5.

Or “30-ten,” as my sister has recently taken to saying.

While I entered my 40s kicking and screaming and comforting myself with ridiculous made up mantras like “40 is the new 30,” Zak seems to be taking it all in stride … at least so far.

Maybe it’s because he looks pretty young.

It’s a running joke in our house that people who don’t know him usually address him as “Sir,” or more commonly, “Dude.” Perhaps it’s because of his 80s rock star haircut, but the “Dude” dispatch is not infrequently followed by an invitation to either purchase or sell some kind of illegal substance.

When we honeymooned in Bali, a group of village woman started the rumor that he was the then long-locked Michael Bolton, who was appearing that week in Denpasar. Then, at a sushi place in Los Angeles, weird Al Yankovich’s date once mistook the two of them. And once in a while he still inspires chorus’s of Peter Frampton’s “Baby, I Love Your Way.”

Maybe he doesn’t look so young after all (and maybe he should actually learn to play the electric guitar I got him for his 20-tenth birthday).

If it’s not the fact that he looks young, then perhaps Zak’s blase reaction to aging is because he’s so in touch with his inner child.

When our son’s teacher made an offhand comment about his fraternal relationship with his father, I wasn’t sure how to react. Should I be happy that my only child has a close playmate, or annoyed that my oldest son is turning 40 and still living at home?

For the most part, my five-year-old and my 40-year-old boys play really well together. They both love computer games, Foster’s Freeze chocolate dip cones, science fiction/fantasy stories, jumping on the furniture and fart jokes.

And the tall one can drive. How cool is that?

Unlike most people over 30, my husband still clings to the notion that listening to KJEE and wearing shorts year-round still gives him some modicum of coolness.

Could Zak’s enviable boatloads of self-esteem be the reason behind his good humor this week?

I’ve got a theory about men, women and self-esteem. While a woman’s self-esteem can ebb and flow depending on what their hair does, what their scale reads and how guilty they feel about what they did or didn’t eat for breakfast, a man can look in the mirror once or twice during high school and if they liked what they saw, that image is permanently embedded in their psyches, despite all evidence to the contrary.

Apparently Zak thought he was pretty cool in high school, and has seen no reason to change that opinion in the past two decades.

Good for him.

The fact that he still has the same group of friends — and they actually all still like each other — probably helps. Maybe 16 and 40 aren’t so far apart after all.

If being cool at 16 meant doing a mock-strip tease in your campaign for student body president, then being cool at 40 means doing a mock-strip tease to get your son in the shower.

If being cool at 16 meant cracking up your friends by quoting Jeff Spicoli lines from Fast Times at Ridgemont High, then being cool at 40 means doing a spot-on Spongebob Squarepants impression.

If being cool at 16 meant constantly carrying around a package of condoms that you hope to someday use, then being cool at 40 means constantly carrying around a package of Band-aids that you hope you never have to use.

If being cool at 16 meant goofing around in the bleachers at the football games, then being cool at 40 means goofing around in the bleachers at T-Ball games, and not forgetting the snacks.

And if being cool at 16 meant pretending not to notice when your girlfriend had a few zits, then being cool at 40 means pretending not to notice when your wife has a few wrinkles. It’s also refraining from comment when she gains a few pounds, is in a bad mood, wants to go out with her girlfriends, burns your dinner or puts tampons, chocolate and Diet Coke on your grocery shopping list.

I can hardly believe I’m married to such a cool guy.

Originally published inĀ South Coast Beacon on April 7, 2005.