June 4, 2009
I'm surrounded by women in the thick of a midlife crisis. Okay not totally surrounded. I know of a few and I eavesdrop while watching the Yahoos at the pool. All of this midlife crisis BS can be a drag. Other than the fact that it's selfish and immature and annoying, it's downright difficult to understand or empathize.
I'm empathetic. Emphasis on pathetic.
In all seriousness, I wake up every day with monumental gratitude. Spouse can walk. If you want to vent over your toothpaste drama-dirty underwear-doesn't bring me flowers enough-diatribe, forget it. I won't empathize.
In lieu of my pathetic empathy, I'll provide a few options for midlife crisis prevention. An Immunization, if you will. Being a professional watcher of sorts, I've noticed a few reoccurring sagas in each of my subjects.
1) Don't get married young.
2) Don't have kids young. (Wait until your one month shy of 29 - a blatant self righteous plug, in case you missed it.)
3) Stop having kids BEFORE you hit that breaking point. Keep in mind you will not see your child-raising limitation until you PASS IT. (No self-righteous plug here. Might have passed it already.)
4) Spend more time naked.
5) If all else fails, learn to play tennis. Smacking that ball with a grunt like Anna's is bound to relieve some stress. Cheaper than the Hummer too. Which brings up an interesting point - what happened to the sports car midlife? They're all buying Hummers now. This isn't a good move financially, being as the Hummer (or the make-believe Hummer without the shrapnel accessory and mega-axle) is being orphaned as we speak. Sigh.
Selfish right? To some yes. Need a reminder of the rabidrunner mantra?
A man's got to know his limitations.
*** For the record, I haven't yet learned to play tennis. It's my secret scheme for battling the midlife crisis. If you hear of my plans to learn the whack-it-back-n-forth game involving the squishy yellow ball, note that I'm in trouble. Or better yet... Spouse is in trouble.