We were in Austin to see Brett a few months ago.  After dinner a bunch of his friends came by his house. They were all going out that night and invited us along. We’ve known most of these kiddos ( ages 25-30)  for a long time. Still, I felt flattered by the invitation. But who really wants a couple of dinosaurs tagging along? They assured us it would be fun and encouraged us to come along. It was already after 10pm. (When I was in my mid-20′s, 10pm was the time you headed out to the bars .) Only the nerds, geeks went out earlier. When I said it sounded like fun, Doug looked at me like I was crazy. He leaned over and quietly said, “Do you know what time it is?”

I put on my least mom-like, but still age appropiate clothes and out we went. After parking we started walking to the bar which Brett told us was a couple of blocks away. Ten blocks later we were still walking. I know to people who live in San Fransisco, NYC, Boston or Chicago that probably doesn’t sound like far to walk. However, most people from Houston don’t walk that far to get somewhere, especially that late at night

When we got to our destination the group comes apart like billiard balls after the break. Brett’s walking around and people are yelling out “Beef!”(I’m still unclear as to how he got that nickname, but he has had it for years.)  Since he’s “Beef” and I’m his mom, I’m guess I’m “Cow.” (Although no one’s called me that to my face at least.) Anyway, Beef was sweet and brought me a drink and a Coke for his dad. Then he was off to make the rounds in the club. Doug and I look at each other and remark how very young most of the customers look. I happen to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. It’s true the lights were pretty low and maybe it was a fun house mirror, but I thought I looked pretty good. (Perhaps it was the Long Island Iced Tea I had just consumed.)

Doug and I stood around talking for about 10 minutes. By then we had exhausted our supply of mindless chit-chat. It was after 11pm and we were tired. When Doug asked if I was ready to go, “Yes” came from my mouth at the speed of light. He said to wait there. He’d go get the car to spare me the long walk. Brett walked with his dad since east Austin still isn’t the best part of town. Before they left, Brett took me over to his friend Standefer. “Just talk to him til we get back.” I’m told.

Standefer is a cool young  guy that I’ve known for awhile. We talk for a few minutes. Then I noticed that people were actually staring at me-some were pointing! All Brett’s friends that had come with us and knew me were where nowhere to be seen. Oh my God, I figured it out! People thought I was a *cougar. A really old, geriatric cougar, but a cougar nonetheless. When I mentioned it to Standefer he laughed. I was mortified. I looked around expecting to see a tranquilizer dart heading my way. I left immediately and waited outside for the car. As I’m standing outside waiting I’m wondering just where that line in the sand is? Just when do most people consider the age gap too big?

*According to Wikipedia a cougar is a woman who sexually pursues a man at least 8 years younger than she is. (Demi Moore is the best example that comes to mind. I can’t imagine a man on the face of the earth who would object to being pursued by her.) Also in Wikipedia is mentioned a movie named  “The Cougar Club”, starring Faye Dunaway as a cougar. This movie came out in 2007. She was 66 at the time.

Random folks

I was watching the Today show the other day as I do most days. Cybill Shepherd was a guest. I really enjoy her. I think she’s incredibly funny and has a good outlook on life. She was talking with Hoda Kotb and said something I could relate to. “You know you’re getting old when you start lying about the age of your kids.” I never thought about doing that before. I don’t think that I’m going to start now. However, that sparked a memory from a scene in Two and A Half Men. In it, Evelyn, the grandmother, tells her grandson Jake to lie and tell her friend on the phone that he is 7 years old- when he is actually ten. Is this a common practice and I’m just not with it?

I’ve never lied about my age, not that there’s anything wrong with that. However, unless you’re trying to get a much younger man interested in you, what’s the point? Besides, at my age, a much younger man would already be in his 40′s. Even if you were initially successful in your charade, it  would be exhausting to have to keep it going. You’d have to learn now all the bits of information that they acquired along the way but would be new to you.

All their social references, movies, music, etc., for the most part, would mean nothing to you. I look at People magazine now and I recognize perhaps half of the “celebrities”. (Is it just me or do most of the “up and comings” in Hollywood all look alike?) I really can’t tell most of them apart. Not to mention, unless you’re some type of computer savant, the difference in your level of computer literacy alone would expose your ploy.

You would have to pretend to like their music. Our kids, Brett and Amanda, are 26 and 23 respectively. Occasionally we like the same music. (That usually means they happen to like my “oldies” -from the 50′s and 60′s.)  I even like some of Garth Brooks early CD’s. (I like music you can sing along to.) I love old folk music, Simon and Garfunkle, Peter, Paul and Mary.  We all went to see Mama Mia at the drive-in last summer. Amanda I both really enjoyed it and I got to hear some old ABBA. I didn’t stop growing in the 60′s. I have Thriller.

Kelly Clarkson and John Mayer are OK. What’s not OK is rap. Oh my God. I cannot listen to it. It makes me kinda crazy and some days it’s a short trip to the edge. Brett also listens to- I can’t remember the name- I would call it: Sounds of an Amputation Without Anesthesia or perhaps the flip side: Hysterectomy Without Sedation. It must’ve been a big hit. It seemed he played it endlessly when he still lived at home. When did flat-out screaming become music? He also had some “music” that I had assumed was recorded in Hell. The voice was loud, bass and raspy. It was creepy. Do you really want to have to pretend to like all that just so people think you’re younger? It’s not for me. Life is too short.

When did our age, the actual number, become something to hide, to be ashamed of? I really don’t understand it. I don’t go around with my age plastered all over my T-shirts that’s true and I’m engaged in a war with gravity. (It’s winning.)  I use Olay Regenerist and I color my hair. (It’s not all that gray, but it needs a boost in the shine department. ) Amanda tells me that I’m the vainest person she knows. This because I refuse to grow a unibrow and I color my hair. Of course it’s easy for her to throw stones at me with her gorgeous unlined skin and shiny, luxurious hair. I tell her “Just wait and see and my dear, wait and see.”

I get a kick when I tell somebody how old I am and they are truly surprised. (As we all know you can always spot those who fake their surprise.) Embrace your oldness. I like getting into the movies cheaper, car insurance is way cheaper and I’ve heard that you can even fly cheaper. (Though I’m not there yet.)  Remember you can still walk on the wild side.-Go shopping without your coupons. Nobody is making you have dinner at 4pm. Fight the good battle-eat at 5! Or maybe take a nap in the afternoon, eat at 6 and stay up til 9. You’re a grown up now and you can do whatever you want.

PS. Don’t forget the senior’s BOGO’s at IHOP.