Super Bowl Midlife Crisis

I must be getting old.  For the last two days I’ve been trying to figure out if I can start my midlife crisis yet.  It’s gotta be close.    I was doing fine until I watched the Super Bowl.  Then without warning, during half time, my youthful vigor slipped away. 

Like most American men, I watched the Super Bowl.  For those of us who prepared and had our beer and snacks lined up next to us, we got to watch the half time show.  This was when Janet Jackson decided to “treat” us with a special little something extra.  I saw it, it registered in my brain, I forgot it – all within 5 seconds.   Maybe it was the six beers I’d already tossed back or maybe it was that anything associated with the Jackson name I just flush out of my mind as soon as possible, but what ever it was, what I saw just didn’t do anything for me.

It wasn’t until Monday afternoon when my 16-year-old nephew rushes in breathless, nearly bursting to let me know he saw it 50 times on his TiVo and even used it to ZOOM in for a close up.  I just sort of tilted my head and asked, “What for?”   The look on his face said all that needed saying.  He was questioning my masculinity.  That look gave way to another.  One that suggested he just realized something.   His Uncle Ralph is old. 

Looking back, I know at 16 I would have given my eyeteeth to see such a thing.  My Daddy was a holy man so there were never the hidden magazines around the house for me to find.  At my age I can also say with some pride, that I’ve never been to a strip bar.  Almost all the men I know have been to strip bars.  Even some of the women I know have done that.  But I was married before I was old enough to go into such places after that it wasn’t that I wasn’t interested, it’s just couldn’t take the beating.

Now, however, with a freebie chance to see some tender flesh, it didn’t even get my attention.  So I’m having a hard time trying to decide:  who is the biggest looser?  Janet Jackson for showing her breast or me for not caring?  Since my 16-year-old nephew can get worked up over it, it’s got to be me.  I must be old.  Too old to care.

Now mind you, I hadn’t felt old prior to this.  I’ve been planning my midlife crisis for several years now.  I’d planned to be ready when it hit me.  I’d already picked out my sports car – a Saturn Curve – still in concept state.   I even planned for my new motorcycle – a Harley Low Rider.  But now I have to rethink all that.  I need to come up with a solution that will restore my youthful wakeup-something-just-happened libido response.  Since I can’t get the Saturn yet, I think I may have an alternate solution that may last at least a few more years.   But I’ll have to run the numbers and study the spreadsheets.   In the long run, what will be cheaper?  A new sports car or Viagra?  Dang!  Tough choices.

Advertisements

Copyright September 2008 all rights reserved