That Sinking Feeling

No more than two years ago I laughed at the premise/reality/existence of the Ray Romano tv vehicle "Men of a Certain Age."  "This is merely a pathetic generalization of so many Dockers-ad fathers and the stereotypes that envelop them."  (I confidently declared to myself...)

Bladder control.

Job Security.

Intimacy issues.

Physical breakdown.

Impulse Porsche purchases.

Big and bold cliches in the land of cliches.  

Turns out my protests were based in the harsh reality that is stereoyping.  For the most part they are too damn accurate.

For instance, a solid 8 hour sleep is near impossible these days.  Bladder Control exhibit A.

It might have to do with a thyroid condition that, to date, has been ignored with prejudice by this author.  Isn't everybody ready to collapse around 3pm these days?  They have a 5 Hour Energy commercial about it for Christs sake!  

And all your lower backs hurt too, right?  

Job and house security?  Yeah, I don't have that either.

Other than the nasal voice and golf game (and ok, maybe a little of the sense of humor) I am TV Ray Romano.  But without real life Ray Romano's scratch.

Sucks.

And now, a night after a fancy dinner at a local country club, the sad truth.

I'm middle aged.

And with it the hard realties.

A hangover is far worse now than it was 20 years ago.

I am much, much older than this months Playboy playmate.

I know what Playboy magazine is for that matter.  Do 20 year olds?  Do 20 year olds even read magazines?

I read box scores in newspapers.  I care about what happens in the French Open.  The US Open over Fathers Day is must see TV.

I should be taking a daily vitamin.  I should be eating right and exercising.  

My hair is turning gray.  My eyesight is (amazingly!) still getting worse.

I lose my temper on the highway.  I lose patience with my 10 year old.  I use phrases from generations ago to prove a point.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."  If you do your homework and clean your mom you can watch some stories on the television."  

Acceptance is the first step, right?

And really, what does it matter?

Each day still has the promise of greatness.  

After all, it's just a matter of time before the zombies come for us.  They are already making their move.

The Mets throw a no-hiiter?  John Edwards brought to trial before anyone at BP?  Green Lantern comes out of the closet?

What next?  LeBron wins a championship?  A soda ban in NYC?  Triple Crown winner?  Howard Stern on AGT?   

Let's embrace all the imperfections and roll with the punches.  40 is the new 20!

That's my mantra for the TM I now have to practice as a middle aged man.

I just bought the black socks for my new all white Reeboks.

And I am taking applications for all those who would like to meet me at Dunkin Donuts weeknights for bad coffee and lie, er, story telling.

40 is the new 20.

40 is the new 20.

40 is the new 20.