So I like to think that I’m a third through my life, if all
goes according to the plan I hope fate has laid out for me (ok, maybe more than
a third). I’ve been catching myself having these thoughts about the situations
I've been finding myself in lately. Kind of those existential thoughts like: am I really
having brunch as a couple with a couple? Are we really considering playing
“family feud” - husbands against wives? Am I really having this conversation
about how lovely the cheese spread is at this co-worker holiday function?
I feel like I’m sometime living out an episode of Seinfield
or How I Met Your Mother. “You guys should come over for dinner, we can even
open a bottle of wine and play charades.” “Hey, shmoopie.” “No, you hang up…no
you…no you.” I’ve never been accused of, nor have I ever felt that I have acted
my age. I physically look younger than my chronological years, and I’m pretty
sure you would not accuse me of being overly mature for my age if you spent
more than 5 minutes around me. I like to think I just got a late start on life
– starting my ‘career a mere 5 years ago, recently married, and purchased a
home about a year ago. I’m not complaining mind you, I will never be mistaken
for someone who likes to rush into things. But I think I draw the line at
stereotypical. My whole life and every essence of my physical being is
stereotypical – white, male, middle-class, college-educated (I’m finding that
less typical than I once believed), about 6’ tall, average American kid of
divorced parents and enjoyed playing sports growing up.
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy spending time with
others…sometimes, you know, hanging out, having a drink, watching a game, or
even just a nice conversation. But I just don’t think that I’m “that guy.” You
know, the one who is the husband of the friend of a friend that you approach at
a wedding/neighbor/holiday party and strikes up a conversation about how do you
know so-and-so? What line of work are you in? Hey, we should get together
sometime and discuss trying to get you into a new Lexus, then hands you his
card – Sales Representative, Toyota/Lexus/Scion Dealer. I guess that’s
why I’m not in sales, hey, more power to them.
As I experience this, and many more situations like these to
come, I worry that my mind will betray me and I’ll be unable to control my
inner-dialog – which typically leaves me fighting off laughter. This might be
an early sign of a serious psychological disorder. (deep breath) Serenity now.
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