In 30 days, I’ll be forty. As the final countdown begins, it’s time to say good-bye to all the things I thought I’d be before August 2010. And wonder where the hell my flying DeLorean is.
The last age I took so hard was 25. Back then, launching into the latter half of my twenties without having achieved richness or thinness had me feeling like a big loser. Luckily, my self-confidence has improved since then. Now launching into my final 365 days before middle age without yet having achieved richness or thinness just has me feeling old.
It’s a sad commentary on my social life when the highlight of the past week comes from sitting on the front patio of hoary Uptown gay bar Big Chicks on dollar burger night, doing Gweilo impressions of contact sheets from AsianPoses.com. On a Monday.
I made eye contact with Benyamin as we entered the happily uncrowded, low-top tabled back room. A smiling Middle Eastern man with a one-word nametag, I knew immediately the Bissell in his hand spelled trouble.