Saturday, April 30, 2005

Things Change

The other evening a guy I work with stopped over at my apartment. He wanted to tell me he was getting married.

He came in an sat a while and we talked. He looked around my sparsely furnished abode. I could tell he was disappointed. He looked at my little 13" TV that I don't even have cable hooked up to. I get one channel, WVVA out of Bluefield.

I guess he though he was going to see some swinging bachelor pad... He even said I should get one of those huge home entertainment systems, DVD player, surround sound, 60" plasma screen...

What for? I watch the evening news and jeopardy. Why spend over a thousand dollars on something I'm hardly going to use. I asked him after he gets married if he really expected to watch Sportscenter on ESPN or any of the good games? No, he'll be forced to watch "Desperate Housewives" and "Survivor" and The Soap Network will have a pre-set button on the remote.

I began to tell him what I really wanted. What I craved. What I never thought in a million years I'd want so bad I'd kill for at this point.

I'd kill for a decent vacuum cleaner. I'd also kill for a heavy duty washer-dryer combo. And last but not least a dishwasher. I'd love to have a dishwasher.

He couldn't understand. He was incredulous. No, I must be joking he said.

Nope, I'm serious.

I began to tell him how things have a funny way of changing. All the things you thought were important when you're young lose meaning along the way. You don't even know when it happens. It sneaks up on you and one day you're different.

I gave him another example. When I was up in Philadelphia a few weeks ago, I met with my brother and best friend in one of our old haunts to have a few beers and talk about the old times.

Do you know what we talked about?

The different pain medications our doctors have us on.

Ten or fifteen years ago it would have been the Phillies or Flyers or the hot redhead at the other end of the bar.

That day the redhead could have stripped naked on the bar and put her business right in my face and the only thing I would have said would have been:

"Hey, do you mind getting your tits out of my face! My brother and I are talking here! Hey bartender, another bowl of peanuts, please!"

I gave my young friend a beer as he shook his head. "That'll never happen to me." he said.

Oh no?

I gave him a few other examples. Like when he gets married. Say goodbye to primary colors. Red, blue, green, tan, white... They'll be gone and he'll have to learn a whole new spectrum of colors like magenta, fuscia, sea foam, mauve, lilac, eggshell...



Words I'd never though would leave my lips.

And don't even think about decorating. You will not be consulted or asked to help. Those trophies and awards you got in highschool and college? Just put them in a box in the basement or garage. You'll never see them again.

Your toilet will get one of those fuzzy seat covers with the matching little rug and the water will turn blue (seafoam, maybe?). The shower will get a funny looking flowered drape-thing. (What's wrong with a goddamn plastic shower curtain?) The bedroom will have that Martha look too. Flowered throw pillows and that frilly little thing that goes around the mattress, again covered in flowers. Potpourri everywhere.

An aside about potpourri here. I could make a fortune with that. All I have to do is in the fall go out and rake up a bunch of dead leaves, put them in little plastic bags tied with a little faggotty bow and sell them for $5 a pop. I'd be rich in a week.

Who'd have though I'd have little baskets of dead leaves laying around my house? All those years of raking up and burning them were for naught. I could have been filthy rich years ago.

That nifty little sportscar he drives?

Say goodbye to it. I'll give him five years and he'll be driving a sedan or a minivan. I gave up years ago the thought of ever owning another killer 4x4 with Monster Mudder tires, the rack of KC Daylighters and the dual CB antennas. I now drive a little 1988 Ford Ranger pickup, with a 4 cylinder 5 speed, with no power anything. Manual steering, manual breaks, no air conditioning. It doesn't even have a radio, and I really don't care. It gets me to and from work and I really could care less what it looks like.

Vehicles lost their status symbol appeal to me years ago. I used to own a 1967 Ford Mustang... I'll never have one of those again.

All these things and more will change I told him.

"Nah, that'll never happen to me!" he said...

I said the same thing when older friends told me the same thing fifteen years ago. I didn't believe them either.

I give my young friend five years. I met his girlfriend...

Nah, I give it two...

Right now I have to go to the Laundromat, do my wash and read five-year old Woman's Day magazines... There was a good article on making you own potpourri I didn't finish reading last week.

Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden


DivineMsN said...

How I love your stories! I hate that damn fuzzy toilet seat cover too. Pointless if you ask me :)

is the doctor in? said...

I'll give him a year tops - time and people change you but not as much as the love of a "good woman"!