Little things that remind you how young you're not

It took my addled brain a minute to process your second paragraph. My initial reaction to your post was “Duck must not be old enough to remember that a Space Shuttle also blew up in 1986” and that made me feel old.

Even though I’ve never followed entertainment news, up until recently I could sort of sort it out. If there was a news story about a celebrity wedding I’d at least know if the celebrity(ies) involved we musicians or actors or atheletes. Now I don’t know and don’t care. Saw a magazine poll “Which Jessica: Alba or Biel?” I don’t know what the difference is. I can’t keep Luke and Owen Wilson straight.

Also in the entertainment vein, the actors I think of as “my generation” are now playing the parents, or even grandparents. Michael Keaton as Lindsay Lohan’s dad in Herbie??? He’s the new Fred MacMurray. I guess knowing who Fred MacMurray is also oldifies me.

When I get up in the morning, for the first 15 minutes or so I walk like a bad imitation of Boris Karloff as Frankenstein’s monster. My hips and knees just won’t bend. When they finally do bend they make sounds.

In college I used to hang out with my friends til about 2:30 or 3:00 most mornings and then wake up at 6:00 to do the homework for my 9:00 class. Now, if I drink a coke with dinner I can’t get to sleep at night, and that’s not good. Good is when I can get in bed by 9:30 or 10:00. When did I get so old?

A poster said in another thread (I really don’t care enough to find the thread so search yourself if you want it) that he was born in 1984 (I think it was Autolycus) - I graduated HIGH SCHOOL in 1984 dammit.

I used to have a picture of myself with long hair from about mmmm…some years ago on my desk at work. I brought it home when someone asked me if that was my daughter.

Being hit on by girls younger than my little sister (which has happened suprisingly often over the last year) and knowing that it would be perfectly legal for us to do very naughty things together is very disturbing and makes me feel incredibly old.

It’s a feeling that generally increases ten fold when (as Peak Banana already mentioned) they open their mouths.

Now don’t get me wrong - its very flattering when it happens, and I’m delighted God has apparently suddenly decided to bestow upon me the ability to be highly attractive to certain types of college-age girl. I just wish he’d had the decency to do it, ya know, whilst I was at bloody college. Bastard.

A while back a good friend and I were in a pub where we’d met up just for some drinks and a quick catch-up before heading back to our respective Missuses.

We were perched on our barstools happily supping our pints and trading urban myths (as is the pubbers way) when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a girl who had just stepped up to order drinks. She was the kind of lass that young men’s dreams are made of and wearing a skirt and strappy top combo that, though decent, left very little to the imagination. She bought her drinks, and, with a flick of her long, red, hair, headed back to her table - where an equally gorgeous (and minimally dressed) blonde friend was waiting for her. They were obviously prepared for a night on the town, and had decided to take a few quiet drinks in the pub first, before heading out to a club.

Suddenly, I realised that I had been staring and worse - that the red head had caught me at it. For a brief moment our eyes met across the crowded bar. She smiled at me - and my God, what a smile it was. Before I could look away she said something out of the corner of her mouth to her friend, who looked up and then smiled as well. Annoyed at myself for being caught staring and slightly embarassed, I threw them what I hoped was a decently apologetic smile and turned away - to find that the friend I had been with had just done exactly the same thing.

I was about to open my mouth to say something to him when he shot me a warning glance.

“Hi” said a soft, female voice from behind me. “Anyone sitting here?”

I turned round to found the two girls standing behind me, pointing at the empty barstools next to us.

“Err no,” I said “think they’re free.”

“Good” said the blonde one, sitting down. “So you guys from round here…?”

We chatted with them for a little while - they were nice enough girls, just started studying, enjoying the freedom but still learning how London worked et cetera, et cetera. We gave them some tips on places to go and things to see and in return they laughed at our jokes - which seemed like a fair trade to me.

“Well,” said the red-head, after about ten minutes, “we better get off to the club!”

“We’re heading off to Bar Aquarium” said the blonde lass, smiling, “Why don’t you guys come with us! It’ll be great!”

“Sorry girls” replied my friend, “Some of us have work tomorrow.”

“Aww,” said the red-head, looking at me with a hint of disappointment in her eyes (he says, modestly), “You sure? Nothing we can do to tempt you?”

“Nah,” I said, “Sorry ladies - its past our bedtimes I’m afraid.”

“Hah!” Giggled the blonde girl, “okay but if you change your minds, you know where we are!”

With a final smile and with brief flurry of clicky heels and the straightening of skirts, they both turned and left. We sat there for a moment, watching the door swing shut behind them.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Said my friend eventually, breaking the silence.

“I reckon I am” I replied.

“If I ever have a daughter I’m gonna make damn sure she wears a coat if she’s gonna go out dressed like that.”

“Too fucking right” I said, nodding in agreement, “Its fucking freezing out there tonight. They’ll catch their deaths.”
Garius - both too old, and happily nearly married :smiley:

I think I told this story in the last version of this thread, but here it is again: Last summer I took a statistics class at the local university. I hadn’t had any math since I took calculus as a college freshman in 1985. This meant that my last math grade was older than my current classmates, most of whom were born 1986-88. I’m still not over the shock.

I feel old when I randomly hurt myself doing things that don’t seem very strenuous. A few months ago, I was in my car stopped at a light, and I was trying to pick up something that was on the floor in front of the passenger seat. It was just barely out of my reach, so I lunged over a bit and grabbed it. I don’t know what I did to my shoulder, but it hurt for the rest of the day, and I kept thinking, “that kind of thing never happened 10 years ago.”

About five years ago I was a team supervisor in a call center. I was in the break room chatting with one of my team members, a lovely college girl with the cutest little freckled nose, who was of the opinion that I was a pretty “cool” supervisor because I liked to dance to the “hold” music we had to listen to when escalating a call to the client. In the course of our chat she asked me what I was doing over the pending weekend. I told her I was excited that I’d received plans for a set of Adirondack furniture, and I was going to get to use my newly-equipped woodworking shop to build a set of furniture.

“That is so cooooollll!” she exclaimed with wide, brown eyes that just melted my heart. “So you do woodworking?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve been doing it for years. I’m pretty accomplished, actually.”

“I think woodworkers are very cool!” she said with a smile.

I’m married, but I enjoy the warmth of an admiring, pretty face as much as the next guy. “Yeah, we woodworkers got it goin’ on, I guess.” I think I even winked.

She smiled. “My grandpa is a woodworker, and he’s a really cool guy, too!”

I waited until she lifted her heel from my heart, gathered it up and went back to work.

But here’s the worst part: The little minx turned up at my son’s wedding. She was one of my daughter-in-law’s bridesmaids, friend of the family and all that. Her grandpa was there. The guy is old! Like, in his eighties!

My little sister is married, and turned twenty-seven a week ago. That makes me feel older than anything.

I was having a conversation about my mother’s neighbor’s 7 year-old daughter and how she looks and acts exactly like her mother did at that age when I babysat her.

A couple of beats later, I said I babysat someone who has a 7 year old??!!

Oh and on Friday, I got an invitation to my 20 year high school reunion. Time to lose weight…only 5 months to go!

I was going through some porn email this morning and had to laugh when I realized I was ignoring the hot guys and admiring the decor in the background. “Ooh, those ceiling panels are nice.”

I went to see Daft Punk last summer and found myself standing behind a gaggle of high school kids dressed up like understudies for the Solid Gold dancers.

So I turn to The Boy and make a cutting remark about how awful the 80s fashions were, and why anyone in the right mind would willingly ressurect a look that was so ridiculously ugly the first time around… when I realised that as far as these twerps are concerned, it is the first time around. Back when I had been thinking gold lame ruffles were a hot fashion statement and working on putting in a banana clip properly, this pack of scenesters hadn’t even been conceived, let alone drawn their first breath.

Gulp.

I’m staying away from all-ages shows from now on. They’re bad for my self-image.

Oh, please.

You’re dating an old lady. I’m dating a young chick. They’re the same age. (Actually, maybe that’s just a good age for dateable women.)

Mine has a child who’s looking at graduation next year.

I’m student teaching right now in an elementary school. Most of these kids were born this century. None of them remember 9/11; half of them were born after 9/11. I was in grad school for 9/11. Yeesh.

Worse than that; I also teach college voice. I have students who were born in 1989. I was in seventh grade in 1989. People born in 1989 are not allowed to be in college.

And I have a white hair in my beard.

Yesterday while I was picking up litter out of my front yard for what seems like the millionth time, I realized that I was muttering under my breath about the neighborhood teenagers. Get off my lawn, indeed.

In talking to one of the swim instructors at the Y, it came up that I used to teach lessons years ago at another local Y. Which got the reply “omigosh! I took lessons at that Y!”

… I think he was going to ask his mom if he took water baby classes – 'cause he was about 1-year old back in 1988 when I taught swim lessons. gah.

Also: I’m vaguely offended that the Flying Nun, of all people, is now playing the mother of Ally McBeal on tv. That is just wrong.

A couple of months ago I saw a movie in which one of the stars played a pretty mature guy. A few years ago, he, in his aged and experienced way, won an Academy Award. My brother used to babysit him.

Said brother is now a grandfather.

I did something similar at a bar in Toronto about 5 years ago. They had two TV’s (One above the other) with one playing hardcore porn and the other showing a diving competition. I was watching the diving.

Not totally related, but when I sign up people for new library cards who are still in the “juvenile” category or who have just reached the “adult” category (16 or over). You were really born in 1993 and you’re old enough to be in the “adult” category? What’s even worse are the really young kids who were born when I was a freshman in high school (1998).

Or my co-workers husband who threw his back out by sneezing.

There’s a nice young lady who works at my kids’ daycare…she has 2 kids about the same age as mine. Her mother is the same age as me!