The joyless march towards death comes with many indignities like wearing earplugs at concerts, knees that can’t outrun cops, or trading in your favorite Vans for something with more arch support. But nobody tells you of the invisible toils of aging. Nobody prepares you for the indignity of no longer being offered drugs, now, at a time when you need to escape the horrors of your reality more than ever.
It happens so slowly at first you may not realize it’s happening to you. You may be fooled into thinking this new generation of young people just doesn’t party like they did “in your day.” (That’s a thing you say now, but only ironically.) But I’m here to let you know they DO party. Unfortunately, they clocked your New Balances the moment you walked in and were waiting for the creepy youth pastor (that’s you) to leave the bathroom before they got down to business.
Did you catch that subtle head nod from the attractive stranger at the bar? Did you think that was for you? Ha! That wasn’t for you, you dumb old fuck! It was for the 20-something behind you and that quick glance toward you was a silent inquiry as to whether or not you were a narc. Yes, they are heading to the afterparty but you, my geriatric friend, better hurry home to hydrate and moisturize before you shrivel into a decaying mass of flaccid flesh.
Once you’re wise to the game you’ll notice that not only are you not being asked to join the party, you end the party, simply by being there. And not being offered party favors is actually just the beginning. Soon you won’t even be able to seek drugs out without someone fearing you’re a cop. I recently spent 30 minutes engaging with a man selling “seashells” on a beach in the Bahamas. I used every nautical drug innuendo I could think of and the only thing this guy had for me was actual decorative seashells. Twenty years ago that man would have sold me so many drugs I would have spent 3 days in a relationship with a stray dog I believed to be my twin flame and now he’s got me pegged as a wired fed, or worse, someone that needs another shellacked seashell to accompany my Live, Laugh, Beach themed bathroom. I did purchase two of those seashells but only because it’s important to support small business (Right? Right?!).
Just because I’m advanced in age doesn’t mean I don’t want to party. I mean, I don’t drink any more on account of the ulcer, I’ll pass on the psychedelics as they tend to flare up my diverticulitis and I won’t touch coke with this arrhythmia situation but it would be nice to be ASKED.