It’s no secret I am seasoned, distinguished, experienced, mature… Old, ok? I am old. At least older than most band wife/girlfriends. I look back at my younger years fondly, what I remember of being younger. I remember going to a rock concert in the early 2000’s, I was real young, nineteen or twenty, fresh and starry eyed. I remember looking up and seeing a bunch of middle aged women dancing around up on the second level and thinking Old ladies, ew!. I don’t think it was that they were necessarily repulsive to me, but I felt territorial to what was mine and my time to shine. I didn’t find it appropriate for a middle-aged woman to go to the concerts I went to and dance around like a fool, I didn’t think it was appropriate for my mother to own an Eminem CD (which, by the way, she did; and, though it was hard to rebel against such a cool mom, I now know that she is awesome). I hated that Sex and the City show when it came out, because old ladies talking about having sex over coffee should not have been a thing. Guess what, I was an idiot. In your early twenties, you really can’t see past your nose, you are quite self-involved, selfish and you can’t grasp the realities of getting any older.
Then you do get old. Life sucks you in, spirals you around, spits you out, and one day you are staring in the mirror wondering where did these weird spots and wrinkles around my face come from? What is my ass doing? And who are these two preteen brats running around eating all my food and stinking up my house? One day you will accompany The Husband to a show to see a Marilyn Manson cover band, look around and wonder why there are a bunch of old people standing around with their kids, And it will dawn on you, wait… I am one of the old people, and these damn young hipsters think it’s cool and ironic to go listen to the music their parents grew up with. Oh God! What happened?! Yes, you will look around and realize you ARE the old lady dancing in the balcony seats, and yes, you now enjoy watching Sex in the City (I’m a Carrie if you couldn’t tell). Though I am smarter a decade and a half later, I am still an idiot.
I see all these fresh college girls, most not even old enough to drink with their big black X’s on their hands, following their boyfriends to the same shows and I think, am I too old for this? Their outfits reminiscent of the Teen magazines I used to read back in the early 90’s, they’re all piling in the room with their squad because they have to bring all their friends to listen to their boyfriends’ cool band. They don’t have to find sitters for their kids, they didn’t have to figure out how to get out of work the next morning and calculate how much sleep they would get that night if they left right after their love gets off stage, they don’t ever have to wonder if it’s even worth going. I feel envious. Yes, I am just too old for this (also, still an idiot). Feeling defeated, I slump into the dark corners not to be seen, slink over to the bar and order a beer. They don’t even check my ID because I have a fancy neon green wristband and as I sip on my delicious craft beer I remember that I won’t wake up with those big black X’s on my face because of those dang giant black permanent markers. Then I remember that I am pretty cool for an older broad, that my life just keeps getting better and I wouldn’t trade my thirty-something-old self for my twenty-year-old self on the worst of days. These girls will grow up to be just as awesome too, and look back and be proud of what they know now. And now that I am a very cool older broad I really shouldn’t care, because rocking out doesn’t have an expiration date, we can all have fun and enjoy the show. So, millennials, take it easy on GenX, we could teach you a lot but we can still be idiots, we are learning.