The babbling of an old man...

It's sad to admit, but I’ve reached another adult milestone...

I'm growing more and more uncomfortable with the fact that as I get closer in age to those I have previously deemed "old," the concept of "old" bears less and less resemblance to the thing I called "old" when I was less "old."

I think I said that right...

OK, maybe I should back up a bit... I remember when I was in grade school thinking about the year 2000, and thinking that at that point I would be positively ancient... I would be 27. And accordingly, I naturally assumed this meant that I would have a job and be married and have kids and leave every morning at 7:30 wearing a suit, and come home at 6 complaining about my day. That's just the way it worked in my house, and I assumed it would be the same for me. Basically, I just figured that by the time the year 2000 rolled around, my life would be complete... I would have accomplished everything I needed to, and I would have settled down into the basic suburban lifestyle.

So imagine my surprise as I sit here, the ripe old age of 31, without a wife, kids or job (or, actually, even a reason to dressed most days)... completely absent of the life I had imagined. Now don't get me wrong, this isn't a bad thing... frankly the idea of a wife or kids at this point still scares me on level roughly about par with the concept of seeing a full scale reenactment of the battle of Gettysburg put on by the displaced cast of "Cats."

But back to my point

Back then, 27 was old... but now, at 31, 27 seems almost downright... young... and 40 or 50, which in the past seemed about right for the mandatory age of embalming, now seems almost relatable... I mean, I actually have friends now that are in that age range... not teachers, not authority figures... FRIENDS?!?!?!? Just imagine it!

And hey, don't get me wrong, I'M not that old... and yes that is still OLD to me, but I am forced to admit that I can see that a day will dawn when the cusp of 40 lurks just over the horizon, and I will be forced to come to grips with the fact that I am in fact aging, that I am in fact getting older, and that it is in fact no longer a viable option for me to be shopping in stores that also carry items that can be construed as "paraphernalia."

I can accept this... and frankly, at my current weight, I'm sure this contrition makes for a very grateful public, but I do still have one burning question... When do I become a dirty old man for ogling young unobtainable actresses that would never give me the time of day even if I was within their respected demograph? Is it "wrong" yet for me to think that Keira Knightly is really hot?

This is the morel dilemma of a 31-year-old man.