MidLife Crisis

June 17, 2001

<center><h1>rand0M Thoughts on Mid-Life Crisis</h1></center>

The main problem with mid-life crisis scenarios is a lack of creativity. I couldn't begin to tell you how many guys I've known who, upon hitting a certain age involving hair loss and a well developed gut, decide their youthful hopes are largely unfulfilled. They set sail for radical change, but the course plotted to reclaim lost dreams is usually uninspired. These

fellows basically perform their same old routine but at a faster pace, a Maserati self-delusion filmed in a mini-van world.

The male version of mid-life crisis generally goes like this. The aging man suddenly realizes that he never became a professional football player, so he runs off with the spike-haired, tattooed 18 year old floozy who operates the rollercoaster at Silverwood. A few weeks later, noticing that he still has thinning hair and a well developed gut, the aging man trades the carnie gal for a tongue-studded, foul-mouthed 19 year old who just got dumped by her boyfriend, who is doing 15 to life in San Quenton for smuggling rare Mayan artifacts that accidentally happened to be filled with cocaine.

The aging man looks at the 19 year old and decides he must have gone nuts, mostly because he can't take her to the bars and impress his friends and partly because she has never even heard of Roy Orbison. Thus he opts

for a 21 year old, platinum blonde fortune hunter who will drop him like a hot potato as soon as his checking account drops below five grand. Eventually he goes home, signs the divorce papers and gets an entry level

shoe salesman job. (Apologies to Mr. Bundy.)

These truths tell us three things about mid-life crisis. First off, they're boring. The odd actions taken to alleviate the supposed crisis are often

more tiresome and redundant than the situation which created the initial frustration.

Secondly, a whole shitload of men are at potential risk of a mid-life crisis anytime after they lose their hair, develop a gut or approach age 40. If all three of these factors occur simultaneously, some males become

disgruntled and shoot their co-workers. This is not a mid-life crisis. This is known as going postal.

Third, the vast percentage of women apparently begin their mid-life crisis at age 18 and inflict it upon men for the rest of their lives, thus tempting henpecked spouses to run off with floozies possessing only

rudimentary nagging skills. This is a little like trading a shotgun wound to the head for slow-moving prostate cancer. You're gonna' lose either way,

but with one method you lose a bit slower.

By the way, I am at the prime age for midlife crisis. However, I do believe my risk factor is zero to none. Here's why:

I don't mind that I'm a few years past the two score mark. Folks have assumed I was over 40 since I was under 25. I'm wrinkled, gray, battered and scarred, but I've pretty much always looked that way and thus have no chance of getting all depressed that I suddenly became a fossil. It's not that I don't age, it's just that I started aging young, lived too hard, and

sorta' got hung up.

I don't care that my hair is gray, for at least I've got hair. I don't have many unfulfilled dreams, for I've done most of the stupid stuff I ever wanted to do. Not so coincidentally, I began doing all the stupid stuff I ever wanted to do around age 22, three years before I started looking 40.

I'm at minimal risk for mid-life crisis because I'm not married, avoid people who whine about the bad hand they've been dealt, and live way back in the boonies with my skis and my guns and my memories. It's always struck me that the best way to avoid a mid-life crisis is to live as you damn well please, be yourself as often as possible, and take risks as you see fit.

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[This message has been edited by rand0M aXiS (edited 06-17-2001).]

Maitreya · June 17, 2001

LOL! I hear you bro.On my fortieth birthday my mind played a trick on me and I thought it was my 39th again.I went for a full 11 months till I figured it out.Then it seemed like I aged two years in one.O' cruel world.My bag is 49 now. All hope is gone.Young women have called me sir for a while now.At least no one has offered me their seat on the bus yet.I wonder how I will react.Just one more reason to keep walking I guess.

Thank God the soul is ever youthful.

Now where's my soup damn it?!!