Not so long ago, I celebrated my fiftieth birthday. My lifes fairly well-settledIve got a steady job, a wife and two children, and my parents are still around. My wife and I mostly get on like a house on fire, although sometimes we do have a row, usually about the kids or other odds and ends. But honestly, I reckon thats how things are in every normal family. Theres no such thing as a perfect couple who never argue, not once in their lives. No ones perfectno ideal man, no ideal woman, and certainly no ideal child. Yet, some folks see it all rather differently.
The other night, I found myself at a birthday bash for an old friend in a restaurant in Manchester. Most of the guests were strangers to me, and truth be told, I wasnt exactly itching to get acquainted. Then this towering, well-preserved lady strode over, already a bit merry, and delighted to have found someone willing to listen. She was eager to air her views about men over fifty.
Men are always the source of trouble! Once they hit this age, they imagine all sortsheart attacks, liver aches. But when they were younger, they shouldnt have drunk so much; it wouldnt hurt them now! And this eternal gloombet you dont even notice, but Id wager you always expect the worst, convinced your glass is half empty. All men are the same, I know it.
Now and then, you meet someone who believes theyre the bees kneesmen, especially, seem to think theyre like a fine wine: they get better and handsomer as they age, though its hardly true. I cant stand those grey beards and old-fashioned jackets. They never bother with their appearance, and after fifty, they forget altogether they have to make any effort. Ive met so many blokes like this; all of them once past fifty have identical hobbiesdrinking with mates, fishing, and bickering with their wives. Nobody cares for self-improvement or ambition, just waiting out the years until retirement.
You men can deny it all if you like, but deep down, you know youre no longer as desirable as you were in your youth and end up far more approachable to nearly anyone. You go on about women, but just one compliment from a lady melts you quicker than sugar in tea. I know your sort really well, oh, I do!
I nodded politely at her tirade, thinking it pointless to start an argument. She seemed to think she knew everything, quick to spot the speck in someone elses eye and blind to the log in her own. Everyone changes as they get older, but people are all different, and I believe Im a fair example of someone who bucks her so-called rules and wisdom. But who could ever convince such a woman otherwise?
Do you agree with what she says about men? Are we really so dreadful as we get older? After the night, I realised the only opinion that really matters is the one you have of yourselfand at fifty, Im alright with that.
