This week I turn 40. I'm not sure the implications have hit me yet. Forty years old. I am a forty-year-old man. Is this what I thought I'd be when I turned 40? What do 40-year-olds look like? Or act like? There's a voice in my head yelling, "I'm not ready!"
But I'm not sure I know what I'm supposed to be ready for. Perhaps that old stereotyped way of thinking of aging has faded away. Because honestly I still play video games and yearn to touch boobies. (Not particularly in that order.)
Sure, I'm sporting some extra weight in my abdomen, and my hair is graying. But I've got wit that kills and my wedding tackle is in tip top condition. I'm looking forward to introducing my son to Star Wars and Lego and comic books. I may not know all there is to know about football and sports in general, but I feel the imagination is our most precious asset. No age is going to stop me from pretending to be Han Solo flying the Millennium Falcon through an asteroid field on a Wednesday afternoon as I navigate traffic on the Beltway.
And when it comes to love, well, let's just say the pursuit to get my wife to send me sexy text messages is never ending (see above re: boobies).
Then again, I do finally drive a nice car and all my pants have been tailored to fit me perfectly. I actually enjoy wearing ties and subscribe to the moist wipes philosophy. I go to bed early and wake up before dawn. And I have no qualms about wearing cheap $9 boat shoes when I walk the dog.
But... I'm learning how to play the banjo and I use my Nintendo 3DS on a daily basis. I have my own Lego sets and I get angry at myself for forgetting to pack fruit snacks in my lunch. However, I'm pretty sure 40-year-old me and young-at-heart me both share similar thoughts regarding girls in yoga pants. Oh baby. Show me a woman with a great ass and I'll show you a man who's going to live forever!