Thanks, I’ll Pass
Until sometime around December or maybe even as late as January, VH and I had a circle of 20-something year old friends. We’re not really sure how that happened, but it did, and we hung out with them long after their drama had ceased to be amusing and became, instead, both terrifying and troubling. It wasn’t too hard to break off those friendships: we simply stopped buying large quantities of alcohol before they came over and — voila! — after two such gatherings they stopped calling on Fridays. After the third time, they just stopped returning our calls.
That was fine with us. Both VH and I are now in our 40s — although he is so much older than I am, as I like to remind him — and it was time for us to begin making friends our own age. I’m not sure how it came about, exactly, but we’ve been doing just that for the past few months: meeting other parents with kids our son’s age, folks with equally busy schedules and equally deep commitments to making their marriages work.
It’s been nice, really. No more weekends wasted on drama. No more listening on Sunday morning to confessions of Saturday night’s sins. And, hell, our new friends can even afford their own alcohol.
Which is why, to be perfectly honest, I’ve found myself declining several invitations to get together since VH went out of town. Our new friends are infinitely more thoughtful the old ones: they call to check on me instead of calling to babble in my ear about whatever today’s “crisis” is. They ask if there’s anything I need or anything they can do for me instead of asking for favors, alibis and bail.
This weekend the Big-Eyed Boy and I have been invited to join a couple of my new friends for a day fishing on the lake. Their kids, as it turns out, will be at Grandma’s, but they are thrilled that I’d be bringing the Big-Eyed Boy in tow. (He is, after all, quite a charmer.) We’d all be perfectly safe, they assured me: their boat is a new one, it’s stocked with plenty of life jackets to go around, and they’ve never had a problem.
Fine, right?
Wrong. Problem is, one of these friends makes a martini that — dare I say it? — can rival VH’s masterpiece. And when the martini shaker’s in his hand they flow freely. Too freely, really, for me without VH being there to act as DD.
Not to mention, I’ve never quite been comfortable with the whole “drinking while fishing” thing. I love fish; I love my martinis; and I love being on a boat. But I’ve seen enough problems arising from the combination of the three — not that I’ve ever been involved. Add in one very rambunctious young boy and temperatures that are expected to easily reach 100 degrees and, well, I just don’t feel as confident as they do that our day would be the delightful trip they’ve got in mind.
So, rather than hurt their feelings, I’ve told our new friends that I’m just not up to it. After a mere 9 days without VH around, I’m pooped — and that’s the truth. I invited them, instead, to come over to our place. I’ll fire up the grill, make some of my famous “Zucchini Cake Bread” and even send them home with a bag of vine-ripened tomatoes from my garden. They hemmed and they hawed until I uttered the kicker: “Hey, I’ll even buy the booze” which led to them asking immediately, “What time should we be there?”
Some things, no matter how old you get, never change.
*never tease someone who is dieting* *never tease someone who is dieting* *never tease...
That is unfortunate news. I have some friends that I hope will change with age. Most of our friends aren’t much into alcohol but they tend to isolate them selves from other people. I think it’s nice to have friends across ages because then you get input from several worlds.
I tend to have friends from all various ages, too, although I’m probably one of those you’d consider as ‘isolating’ myself. I prefer being at home — always have, and after putting in so much work to create a place where my family’s comfortable, I’d rather be here (where things are mostly paid for) than spending money out somewhere.
Ah. Shades of years past. I spent an entire Canadian winter (and prolly spring and fall) hosting my Teen’s 16-21 friends. Yes, it got tired.
But I can’t seem to find people my age who are interesting now. (Let’s say… 40-50ish.) All the men I meet are insanely horny over-65s with flat asses and pot bellies and jelly necks. I have not met any women worthy of note or sustained conversation. Not even a cougar in sight.
Oh please shake me a martini now.
Seems like you were being taken advantage of. Hope those 20 somethings grow up someday.
Oh, I don’t think it was that so much as what defines friendships in your 20s is different than what defines them in your 40s. When you’re 20 and childless, you’re supposed to go out and have fun, but that doesn’t work when you’re 40 — at least not as long or as often.
We live in a neighborhood that has turned into a refuge for those leaving “the ghetto.” Most of them are 20-somethings and only a handful have children. Those that are older leave their teenagers at home all day to pop in and out my house. The 20 something neighbors have all taken to looking to me as a big sister type of person in their lives. On the surface it’s flattering and fulfills the need for “family” that living 100+ and 1000+ miles away from our respective families leaves us with. On the other hand, I am way too old, and I think I have always been way too old for the drama their lives entail. Not to mention the amount of booze they can consume.