John Rambo… is that you?
Heh. Yup.
IANAPsychologist, but I was under the impression that a mid-life crisis was essentially coming to terms with the fact that:
a) your life is about halfway done
b) you’re not a young man any more
c) it’s pretty much downhill from there and
d) there is probably a huge discrepency between your hopes, dreams and goals of youth and the way your life actually is.
This can manifest itself in a number of ways:
-acquiring various trappings of youth like a ridiculous car or way too young girlfriend
-self destructive behavior (like the guy from Sideways)
-general depression or mailaise (the other guy from Sideways)
Whether or not you even have one probably depends on a number of factors like how well adjusted you are, how well you have achieved your life goals, how you are perceived and your general mood as a person. One guy might wake up at 45 totally satisfied with his family and old college buddies he watches football with every Sunday while another might feel trapped in his life.
No. No. No. Get fired from your job, collect unemployment and pursue learning a musical instrument.
You’re all right until you turn forty, but then you’ll have to either take up golf or acquire a mistress. Something I forgot to consider before hand was that for golf you have to buy new shoes, something not required for a mistress except in certain specialized cases. I’m still not sure I made the right decision. You go with your gut though.
I had THE most stereotypical male midlife crisis you can imagine-- very strange, since I was a 43 year old lesbian at the time. I figured these things didn’t happen to people who weren’t middle-aged males from the 'burbs. Oh, I was wrong, so very wrong. Let me illustrate:
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The Younger Woman. I’d been with my partner for 12 years and I considered myself pretty happy. I befriended a 21 YO undergraduate and we started having some incredibly long email conversations about life, the universe, science, music, whatever. I think it took me a month, month in a half, to be thoroughly smitten. Trouble was, she was smitten back. Cue heavily-cello’d “sexual tension” music.
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The Sports Car. More metaphorical than real. I adopted a kingsnake, two rats and coveted an African millipede. I quote my best friend: “Gross pets are your little red sportscar.”
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Marital Crisis. Here’s my advice: If you are smitten with a much younger woman, do NOT tell your mate, even if you are not having sex with this person.
I’ll keep this relatively short and leave out the fun stories about the suicide attempt, massive anti-depressant intake, cliched spiritual exploration, $$$ on therapy and couples counseling.
And oh yeah, I bought an electric guitar.
I bought a bright red boat shaped like a marital aid. I occasionally roar around the lake in it, consuming felonious amounts of fuel.
Works for me.
I got my eye on you, kunilou. This goes on page 1 of the manual. You’re goin’ places!
I agree with this recipe, provided that you are fired for punching your boss and have to be tossed out by security.
You rebel.
And I must admit, as a guitarist, there is something incredibly fun about cranking the guitar. I was playing with my band at a street fair last year and we were playing, hmmm, maybe “Hash Pipe” by Weezer or something, and there was this group of high school punky kids hanging out. You know, smoking cigarettes, streaks of day-glo green off-cut hair, worn out t-shirts and baggy brown shorts - the whole bit. So we finish the song and this cute punk girl calls out “would you be my dad?!”
Okay - not the “oh baby, I’m 17 - come do me” response that would fuel my mid-life-crisis fantasies, but clearly being seen as cool by kids really caught up in figuring out what cool is to them was…cool.
We went to a ‘60s revival concert at an outdoor venue near us a while back. My husband has long gray hair/beard and we were groovin’ to Robbie Robertson and some other older artists.
So…we’re sitting on our little lawn chairs drinkin’ a couple brewskis and this group of kids circles around us and sits down. “Tell us about Woodstock!” “What was it like to be in San Francisco in '68?” It was hilarious in a “man-are-we-old” kinda way. I smiled for the rest of the day.
I had my mid-life crisis at age 23…I figured that my career was going alright up till then. Since that time, I’ve had regular MLC’s every two to three years!
YES! Now we’re talking. Does it have to be my boss? It would be more satisfying if it was my snarky/lazy/douchbag coworker getting the knuckle sammich.
Oh, sure! Any heartfelt punch-out will get you fired. If you can plan it so you do the smack-down in front of the boss, extra points.
Of course you know this will completely un-do any chance of collecting unemployment.
One word for you (it worked for me): Miata.
I need two words: Mini Cooper (convertible).
Three. Whatever.
I guess it’s better to burn out than to fade away, eh?
I was in a similar condition, lost, looking for an appropriate mid-life crisis.
I couldn’t afford a sports car.
If you can’t afford a sports car, you can’t begin to afford an affair ('sides, I really love my wife & family - when I don’t want to kill them all).
I have two tattoos now.
Hey - I figured at 40, I could stop worrying about what other people thought of me.
-B