Last night I dropped my son and his friend at the movies. They were meeting two girls. At the movies. At night. In my mind that’s a double date. Oh my god. My little boy on a double date.
Except he’s insistent it wasn’t a date. He’s probably even right. He just went to the movies with three friends. Two of them were girls and his mother is the irritating kind of woman who puts everything into little boxes that fit her preconceived social structures just right.
It took everything in my arsenal of zen mum not to insist on phoning the mothers of the two girls , I didn’t even vet them outside the movies. In fact, I actually dropped the boys outside with firm instructions to always treat girls (and everyone else) with utmost respect and then I drove away as if I didn’t have a care in the world. In fact if I wasn’t telling you now you’d never have even guessed that I was going straight to the Chemist to check out their supply of natural calmatives.
Armed with only the boring common-or-garden variety of rescue drops, I went back into the shopping centre to wait for the mother of Little Pencil’s friend. We urgently needed to talk, as girlfriends that haven’t seen each other for a whole day need to talk, and I urgently needed to be within jumping distance of my son should he need me (which I knew he wouldn’t but I was sticking to my excuse).
As I waited for my friend to come and join me I watched the people around me. In particular I watched the people that were leaving the movies.
It dawned on me that people who go to afternoon movies are of a very particular demographic. They’re almost all over seventy. Most of them are women (a common “problem” in a society where women outlive men) and they walk slowly and carefully, the weight of age making its mark on their every movement. They no longer stand straight rather they bow to their age.
I had just let my little boy go and here I was, somewhere between the teenager racing off with all the exuberance of youth to his ”non-date” and the old women at the movies who bore the burden of way too many dates. Literally in the middle of these two lives – about 30 years away from the teen and about 30 years away from going to afternoon movies.
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It briefly occurred to me to be happy that I was still so young, so snugly in between the two ages so as not to be old (although my son would laugh for days if I tried to explain that I was as close to his age as I was to old age). I looked at these people and tried to imagine where I would be in 30 years time. I felt a little bleak when I realised that not many of them were smiling on the inside. In fact now that I recall it not many were smiling on the outside either.
Perhaps I should be giving people benefit of the doubt, maybe they had all just walked out of a movie like Philomena and they were really feeling very emotional. But maybe not. There is a certain somberness that comes with being an adult.
All the learning, maturing and developing that we do in our youth is unfettered with the stress of responsibility. All the learning we do as adults seems to weigh us down. I’m not looking forward to going to afternoon movies and coming out afterwards looking like I’ve been eating lemons and my days on earth are numbered by a clock sitting heavily on my back . I’m not looking forward to being old, although the other option is worse.
How do we ensure that we grow old happily? What’s the secret to keeping the exuberance of life as a teen ticking along when you are older ? How do we bear responsibility while still maintaining optimism? .
Maybe the answer lies in seeing a movie with a date. And not in the afternoon.
Maybe we just shouldn’t waste all of our youth on our youth.
I think we’re almost the same age, you and I — and I feel the same way as you. I feel like I’m right in that sweet-spot between youth and old age. Still young enough to feel fit and healthy, but old enough now to have the wisdom and self-confidence that only comes with experience…
I think you’re spot-on about older people. I too look at people in their 70s and 80s and I do think many of them look sad and broken and I hope I’m not like that at the same age. I do wonder if it’s a generational thing though… I wonder if Gen-Xers like us will have a different experience or attitude to old age than the generations that came before us. I hope so. I want to be optimistic and positive no matter how old I get – but we can’t know that for sure, because like your son who looks at you and thinks you’re old (when you’re not), we can’t really tell what it is to be elderly. The future will always be different from what we expect.
You’re exactly right John, I know think of people in their 50s a reasonably young whereas my son thinks 50 is ancient (his words not mine) 😉
I’m happy for your young man that he has friends to go to the movie with, whichever gender and I’m hoping those old ladies did in fact just come out of seeing Philomena, still sad.
I would rather like to think that I’ll be one of those Purple Hat Society older women or an aunt or grandmother who has fantastic stories to tell. You know what that means? I have to go make some happen while I’m still young enough to do so xxx
Bloody brilliant attitude. And the best part is that you still have plenty of time to live those fantastic stories before you have to tell them!
My (ten years younger) hubby and I plan to “go out” on our way back from our fifth honeymoon in Hawaii aged 99 and 109 respectively. I don’t feel any different inside to the way I felt at twenty and don’t intend changing my attitude to life (if) I make it into old age. My Mum plays bowls with a number of older widows and she is adamant they have a brilliant social life. I’ve heard they ring each other at two o’clock in the morning and meet up at the Casino. I wouldn’t have the energy to do that now! Did your very well-balanced and rounded son have a good time at the movies? I hope so 🙂
I know how you feel Pinky Poinker, I am still waiting to feel “grown up” because the me that was 20 is the same me that is 45 but fatter and wrinklier 🙂
I do hope Little Pencil’s non-date was a hit, despite Mother-Hen’s hovering (mental) omnipresence!
On the subject of ageing, I have no intention of growing ‘old and saddened’ or ‘old and bitter’. It’s hard though, in this world of youth worship. I just love Anouk Aimee’s quote about oldness and beauty: “You can only perceive real beauty in a person as they get older”.
🙂
Little Pencil loved the movie…and still refused to see it as a date. Love your quote xxxx
I just turned 40 and I actually am looking forward to old age. I plan to be hilariously cantankerous and please myself. I will not wear a red hat. But I will keep dressing up glamourously. I will find joy in my life free of judgment and I won’t hate myself for my more fleshy body I will be more forgiving and thankful for it’s continuing support. I do also hope to completely lose my marbles before I am unable to move about by myself or else just drop to the floor dead.
LOVE your attitude. We should be friends in your old age!
I reckon the key is to have something that makes you buzz. Travel, friends, a hobby, even keep working if that’s what makes you happy.
But, I also know (from watching my Grandma be without her soulmate for 17 years) that when you have to be without your life partner for so long, the loneliness does wear you down, no matter how surrounded by people you are 🙁
Yes, I think I failed to make that point strong enough. The fact that most of these people were women and they were alone (presumably widowed) really added to the sadness
Think I’d rather be like Morfar, the Viking’s grandfather who passed away late last year. He was 97 and still dressed up to go out to dinner, then at dinner as soon as the Viking’s fries come out he stole one, popped it in his mouth then looked up at me with a twinkle in his eye and a fry sticking out of his mouth. Legend.
Youth is most definitely wasted on the youths! Ah, how to maintain exuberance, this I am pondering whilst surrounded by washing that needs putting away and the dinner ingredients in the kitchen which won’t arrange and cook themselves. I intend to maintain it by buggering off to the South of France. I figure I have another 8 years or so with a child/ren in the house and when they go to uni I’m off to Cannes or Nice or similar. Bon voyage, c’est la vie, croissant, au revoir (thank you year 9 French). No afternoon movies at the Hoyts multiplex for me, I will instead be a living movie of what one does with one’s middle years, with no husband in tow I shall take a French lover and while away the afternoons with melty camembert and the crustiest of crusty white bread. I believe I will drink wine with lunch. Every day. This vision is what keeps me going when I despair of old age sneaking up and spoiling everything just when I’ve finally learned all I need to know!