While out on the town on a recent girls’ night, I met this gorgeous little 18 year old and ended up sitting at the same table as her, having shouted conversations across the table while my friend pashed on with her older brother. I didn’t hear most of what she said so there was a lot of blank smiling and nodding going on at my end… There came a break in the “music” (or, as I call it, “computer-generated-noise”) and it was at that precise moment that she shouted “SO, HOW OLD ARE YOU?” There was no nodding my way out of it. So I answered “79. I look good for my age, huh?” She looked at me, paused, and said “Nooooo, really. How old are you?”
Listen up young people – male, female and undecided alike – never, EVER ask that question! And if an “old person” asks you to guess their age, the standard protocol is this: Take whatever number you actually THINK they are and subtract 7. Trust me. If you were right and they were, in fact, 7 years older than the number you SAID, you’ve just given them a massive compliment – not one that is so outrageous it’s obviously nothing more than flattery, but one will that see an immediate change in their posture and confidence level, temporarily at least. If you were wrong, but they were less than 7 years older than the number you SAID yet still more than 7 years younger than the age you THOUGHT they were, then you’ve still given them a compliment of some degree and changes in posture and confidence will change accordingly. If, by chance, the person is younger than you THOUGHT they were… Well, at least you didn’t insult them as badly as you would have. (You’re welcome, dumbass.) Next time try subtracting a decade and perhaps spend some time with people who remember a time when lip-synching was a crime against music, not a marketable “skill” (wikisearch: Milli Vanilli) or when the discovery of the Titanic was a current event, not scene in a “classic movie” (seriously kids, google it… Its’ wrecked remains were only discovered in 1985… That’s not THAT long ago, seriously!) Sorry I’m diverting down a whole other track here due to some particularly sore points from my recent interaction with these whipper snappers.
To her credit, when I finally did tell this young lady my age she said “Ohhh, that’s not old!” Which she then completely contradicted with her next statement…. She had been asking me since we met if I knew any hot guys, and to find her one. Feeling bored after being ditched by my mate for a good snog (bored, not disgruntled… I don’t begrudge anyone the right to a good make out session. When you’re single, you never know when the opportunity will arise so you’ve gotta grab it with both lips and a tongue when it does. I get it.) I was still feeling surprisingly playful considering the late hour and my penchant for early nights and dvd box sets, so I agreed to be her wing-man. She had no idea what that meant and it was too loud to explain so I agreed to help and we began our lap of the venue. I heard, in a rare but cherished break in the “music” a sexy Irish accent (I don’t think I’m alone here. Seriously, what is it with that accent that induces such swooning?) that turned my head and, probably a little bit too loudly considering that he heard me, said, “He’s not bad”. The “music” started again, so this precious little idiot-blossom shouted out (loud enough for both me and Irish to hear) “EWWWWW GROSS!!! HE’S SOOO OLD!!!” He was 26. 10 years my junior. The very same person who was “not old” two minutes ago is actually a decade older than the person you just declared to be a sexual geriatric.
So, dear infants, can I suggest that you refrain from asking us to play match maker? Seriously, we don’t know what’s hot anymore. The boys that you apparently think are the bomb these days (things are still “the bomb” aren’t they, kids? Oops, my bad… I should say “da bomb”, shouldn’t I?) would have been sitting at the front of the bus when I was in school. (Do I need to mention that the front of the bus was not where the hot, cool kids sat? Is the back of the bus still a thing? Isn’t it funny that it seems totally okay to me to use hot and cool as synonyms for good-looking and popular, but todays slang sounds, “Like, so redick. Literally.”)
One more nugget of advice for all you youngsters out there before I sign off… When you and the elderly person that you are so kindly humouring (or milking for free drinks – cos y’know, old people have HEAPS of money… Do we? Where do I pick mine up? Will it be delivered? If it hasn’t arrived, does that mean I’m not old yet? Shit, I should update my electoral roll details. Maybe that’s why I haven’t got it yet… But if I do, then I’ll be old. But I’ll have money. Hmmm… What a conundrum!) reach an agreeable middle (aged) ground, please, PLEASE, for the love of all things alcoholic, PLEASE don’t then announce that this person is old enough to be your parent. We know. We can do maths. Without an app… And, if for some reason, (probably out of sheer exasperation, disbelief or sudden awful awakening) this person happens to mention that they were in fact driving before you were walking, that does not… I repeat, that does NOT mean it is okay to start calling this person Mum or Dad, or expect them to then look after you for the night. It’s not cute and it’s not funny. (If this crap was cute or funny, I’d be at home with my own teenager enjoying her very existence, not out consuming copious amounts of alcohol trying to dull the memory of that particular mornings’ tantrum over… Ummm… Whatever the trivial fuck that days’ drama was over… Oh, that’s right, braids… Crooked braids, too-tight braids, too-loose braids…. OMG Do your own fucking braids! And pass me the gin.)
You should count yourself lucky I’m not your mum… Still live at home? Yep… You’re 18? Yep… Finished school? Yep… Working? Yep… Full-time? Yep… Help around the house? Nope… Pay board? Nope… Saving for house deposit? Nope… Saving for anything? Nope… Get the fuck out! Trust me, it’s not just for your parents’ sake, but yours too. There are so many things you will miss out on by staying in the comfort of home and eating 3 lovingly prepared, nutritious meals a day. Take for example, the many different things you will learn to do with 2 minute noodles in order to allow more of your budget for cask wine. Or, going to Kmart for $2 underwear on your way out because you haven’t done your laundry. Or, cashing in your recyclables (aka beer bottles) to buy more beer. (If you’re in SA or NT, that is. Why is that not the done thing everywhere?? Do you know how many free cartons I’ve missed out on since moving to Queensland? Ripped off!) Or, how to disguise holes in walls with posters and carpet stains with strategic furniture positioning for rental inspections, and then how to fix them before you move. All such valuable life lessons and you’re missing out on them, and so many more! So do yourself a favour (and your parents), and go and live in that shitty share-house… The cockroaches are character-building! You’ll make mistakes that will eventually become great stories and memories that will last a lifetime! (As well as some that won’t last til morning!) So, go forth and fail! Get up, try again! Live, learn, have fun, and GROW UP!
Love, “Mum” (I just vomited a little in my mouth as I typed that…)