So our school hosted a faculty/ student basketball game today: the teachers vs. the students. I watched as our older, slightly (or greatly) softer faculty, in their larger uniforms, ran up and down the gym floor while the younger, more agile teenagers scored and slammed against them. I laughed as the teens hung from the rims and the teachers bent over to catch their breaths. And while I watched, something awful crept into my mind. In the dating game, have I crossed the line and become the adult trying to keep up with what is most certainly a younger game?
You only know this if you are immediately connected to me, but several months I began to get deeply concerned that younger women were “running all over my game.†There was a teenager who was crowding my dating arena, and it intimidated the living hell out of me. I had always been the young, beautiful one that the older women could hate. Now, all of a sudden, I was hating young, beautiful women. When did I switch teams?
When did I get put in a bigger jersey and need time outs to catch my breath? Drastic measures were called for, and so I called in Virginia, my trusty hair stylist. I walked in with a picture of Jessica Simpson, and instructed her to make me as blonde as possible and give me a young “bob.†She knows better than to argue with me when I’ve got that crazed look in my eyes, so she did exactly what I asked. I looked like Lindsey Lohan when she decided to go platinum. Not a good look. My poor mother looked like I had disavowed the Virgin Mary when I walked into my parents’ home. I was trying to look younger, and I really just looked tacky. And it had NO effect on my dating life. And, it made me look washed out in photos. All in all, a bad game plan.
As we left school, I sat with the other coaches and teachers who had played, and they laughed about what a good time it was. They didn’t have the energy of the kids or the agility of the younger bodies, but they had a better time playing the game. They were playing with years of experience. They played knowing that the outcome would not determine who they were or how they saw themselves. They played for the love of the game and the experience of exercise and adrenaline. And I think that the longer we live, date, and love, the more we realize that it’s about the experience and the feelings you get while you’re living than about end result or how others think you’ve performed. Maybe being on this side of the court isn’t such a bad thing. At least the jerseys are a bit roomier. And, I don’t have to be passing to play.
Visit Tattoed Debutante’s Blog Visit Tattoed Debutante’s Blog
{ 1 trackback }
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
You right it isnt that bad,i gave up on performances and end results beacuse it isnt anymore about qauntity but qaulity,and atthe end of teh day we want only the best for ourselves.
i just got around to reading this and it made me laugh.
really loud.