You’ve no doubt seen the Pepsi TV ads where some late 30s/early 40s person is stopped by a faceless narrator and asked: “I see you’re drinking Diet Pepsi. Is there anything else youthful you’d like to experience?” The person thinks for a second and comes up with something from their youth that they’d like to do again.
One woman wants to experience make-out sessions again. One guy wants to have the fun of sleep-overs with his friends again. One guy misses recess. One guy misses his 1980s hair. Someone else wants their old car back.
Then they show the old guy/gal at their current age doing the stuff they think they miss about their youth. Of course it’s not quite as much fun as they remembered it — making out with your husband at a gown-up dinner party doesn’t seem to be as much fun as making out with some cute senior at the dance apparantly. Getting a wedgie at recess as a grown man doesn’t have the same thrill attached to it either, according to Pepsi.
The moral of the story is that the only thing youthful left for us to do is to drink Diet Pepsi.
Is reality really that sad?
I miss stuff from my youth like high school dances and high school and university parties. Parties just aren’t the same when you’re an adult — moderate drinking, helping the hostess wash up, quiet music, lots of talk about work, everyone comes and goes with the same person they’ve been coming and going to parties with for the last 20 years. Yawn.
I also miss all the energy I had when I was young, not to mention the awesome metabolism.
But other than that I think I’m pretty happy to be done with those years. All that never-ending school work. Living with my parents. Not living with my parents and living in a series of student hovels instead. All that random, meaningless sex…
Some grown-ups like to re-visit their youth every once in a while, by going out to a club and letting the 20-somethings laugh at them; or playing much-loved childhood games with each other; or going wild every so often by drinking too much; or taking a spin on a merry-go-round or even a tilt-a-whirl.
I thought and thought to see if there was anything I do these days to try and make me feel more like a recalcitrant teen or an exuberant child, but I couldn’t think of a thing.
So, either I’ve grown into a hopelessly boring old fart, or, I’ve grown into a recalcitrant, exuberant adult which who never stopped doing recklessly inane things.