The Thirty Something Snap

Chapter Two - Delirious

The drive home from Basking Ridge, New Jersey, to Merrick on Long Island was quiet and retrospective. I wondered if maybe I had been too ‘holier than thou’ towards Peter. He really was correct in stating that, indeed, this car and this mustache are indications that I also had not escaped the thirty-something snap. In fact I remember when I first bought this car I drove around, with the music turned up loud, sporting a pair of Gucci sunglasses hoping to attract attention from women.

My fantasy was that some hot chick would see me and my fabricated wealth and it would seduce her and draw her into my little world. The closest I ever came to seeing that fantasy become a reality was when I drove down to Florida and some college babe in a bikini working a food stand during Bike Week in Daytona Beach called me, ‘honey.’ It turns out all those Southern Belles call everyone ‘honey’ or ‘baby’ or ‘sweetie.’ It’s good for the male ego as long as you don’t believe it actually means anything.

I cringed as I replayed in my mind some of the things I had said to Peter. Who am I, anyway, to be judging anyone? All my friends, Peter especially, did well in their lives way before I finally grew up and put an end to my dream chasing.

Where did all that dream chasing get me, anyway? Nowhere. I’m convinced that at the age of 39 I find myself living alone simply because I wouldn’t let go of that dream. I can’t blame Darla for leaving me. I was a waste of her time. If I had only abandoned my obstinate ambition to be a rockstar a decade earlier maybe Darla would have stayed.

I’ve got myself together now, though. Better late than never, I guess. Hiring on with Edelman was the best thing that ever happened to me. Then, when they said I could do my PR work from home – BINGO! That made a great job even better. I’m pretty good at my job. I think all those years of promoting myself as a musician and songwriter taught me a lot about public relations. While I never realized my true dream I certainly have been able to cash in on the lessons I learned while chasing it. I just wish it could have happened before the divorce. My late-in-life success is bittersweet.

Okay, enough feeling guilty and feeling sorry for myself.

As I make the trip back toward the George Washington Bridge I can see the early Saturday morning sunlight glistening off the magnificent New York City skyline. It’s impossible to look at the cluster of new skyscrapers that make up the new World Trade Center downtown and not think of that awful day of September 11, 2001.

The attack of 9/11 was a devastating blow to the city and to this country but look at it now. It is brilliant. A testament to the will to persist and move on in spite of how dismal circumstances appear.

Looking at that skyline and hearing those words in my head at this moment in my life suddenly made me realize that there is still hope, even for me. Maybe Peter is right. Maybe we SHOULD still live our lives with reckless abandon. Who cares if we’re surrendering to the thirty-something snap?

If Peter wants to stroll around naked in front of complete strangers then I say, “Good for him.” It’s like the old man with the pitch black toupee or the grandpa in a Corvette. Good for them! In fact look at Mick Jagger struttin’ around like he did when he was twenty. Good for him, too. I think I suddenly realize that the very thing I’ve been turning my nose up at could be the ONLY thing that will make this old boy feel alive again.

And why not surround myself with women? Why not have superficial relationships? I’ve got nobody to answer to anymore. If I wasn’t so tired I’d drive right into that city right now and blow a wad of cash at some peep show. Sure the girls behind the plexiglass would look at me as a pervert and a creep. But who cares?

Okay, maybe I’m delirious because of this crazy night. I think I better just drive home and get some sleep.

By the time I returned to my condo on Smith Street in Merrick I was exhausted. I collapsed onto my bed and fell fast asleep in no time.