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Coming to Terms with the Big Five OH
“I’m actually younger than most people my age.”
Through the din of a company holiday party, I did hear myself say that, clearly a close to classic Freudian slip, and once I’d said it, I knew I couldn’t deny it or make much of a dent by adding, “What I really meant to say was. . .”
A colleague standing near me had seemed distracted by the crush of people crowding the food tables, but he obviously heard and remembered my words. Weeks later, when we met for one of our normally uneventful lunches, he jolted me with this reminder: “So — how old are you? Really?” he asked, squinting his eyes to underscore serious interest.
“How old would you say?” I asked provocatively, convinced his response might give me at least a five-year advantage.
“Maybe. . .forty-six,” he responded, without blinking an eye. I was stunned and hoped I didn’t show it. I just nodded absently, and the subject never resurfaced. Meanwhile, I was seething — I mean my God, I had just turned forty-two!
Time passed as, inevitably, it will, and I finally found myself approaching what most men consider one of life’s significant landmarks, the big five-oh. Probably realizing how fraught this event might be, my wife wisely said nothing, dealing with it…
