Deemed Too Old?

User “Only sujema” recently penned (if you’ll pardon the expression) a post regarding age and becoming grumpy and irritable in her later years.  I’m paraphrasing, of course, but that’s the gist of it as I see it.

Feel free to check out her post – https://www.opendiary.com/m/onlysujema/i-know-they-do-have-a-back-yard-6283759/

I don’t have any problems with any of my neighbors, so her post didn’t quite resonate with me like it might with other readers.

Still, reading her post made me question how I am aging and how I’ve had to deal with my getting up there in years, not that I’m that old or anything.  Her post brought me back to a recent development at work, where a friend of mine (a term that I feel I have to use very loosely of late) told me that she and I could no longer have lunch together because I’m considerably older than she is and she didn’t want our co-workers seeing us associating in such capacity.  Now, I will admit that I am 22 years older than she is, but never in my wildest dreams would I ever have imagined a scenario where someone would shun me because I happened to be older than they are.  I think this is even worse when I think about how I have been ruled out as a lunch buddy because of the differences in our ages, like somehow because I’m older, I don’t have to eat like anyone younger than I am.  I have to consider this to be quite the petty thing to do, but in the end, it is out of my control.  Perish the thought that someone think oddly of two people of such vast age differences eating lunch together.  Here I was thinking that in the end, it’s just lunch, but apparently, it’s so much more than that.  Apparently, associating with me is creating quite the spectacle and God forbid, we should care that much about what other people might think.  I’ve never been the type to care about how people think of me, so hearing this sort of thing just comes off as stupid and very pointless.  People are always going to have their opinions, both good and bad.  I’ve just never cared that much to allow the opinions of others to dictate my actions and/or how I live my life.

So, as it turns out, we can no longer have lunch together, even though eating lunch together was never a problem whenever our co-workers weren’t around.  The minute someone sees us and thinks that we are associating with each other, suddenly, we’ve engaged in some kind of major social faux pas and under no circumstance can we do such a thing.  In years past, I might have questioned the extent to which I was ugly, unattractive, or someone painful on the eyes, but since the weight loss, I think I’m at least decent looking.  She just has this intense preoccupation with how others will see her.  Obviously, that’s something I can’t help or control, so I can’t dwell on it too much, but I can sure as hell write about it.

Interestingly, while I am much too old to be around or enjoy a meal with, I am still very capable of doing her work for her because (and not to toot my own horn) frankly, I write better than 90% of the people in our office, her included.  Before she decided that I was much too old to associate with, she had absolutely no problem asking me to proofread her writing and even do some of her reports for her.  Now, I want to make it known that for many years, I have written reports for others because not only am I really good at it, but because I find it to be fun and somewhat relaxing.  Yes, even professional writing is soothing and keeps me entertained and yes, it pays the bills.  My logic has me thinking that if I’m too old to be seen with, then why would I still be an option to literally do her work for her?  I know the answer, so I ask that rhetorically, but still.

Additionally and again, so long as we’re not seen together or in close proximity, I am still a source of support and comfort for her.  She vents to me and releases stress around me as she sees fit.  I guess behind closed doors or when none of our co-workers are around, I am her best friend.  I am her confidant.  I can still be her go-to.  Again, I am her source of comfort.  Whenever she was down and in the dumps, I used to tell her that everything is going to be all right and that things aren’t as bad as they seem.  Now, I see no reason to do any of that.  I’m too old for that sort of thing.  I figure she can find someone younger and frankly dumber to lean on because she made the decision that I am not that person anymore, at least not in any kind of public setting.  Behind closed doors, I am gold.  In public, I am herpes.

For the time being, “helping” her with her work is fueling my overtime and I’m getting paid to do it.  As it stands, I no longer have any intrinsic motivation to help her.  It’s all extrinsic at this point.  I have no choice but to think about it, in terms of that I’m only in it for the money.  As soon as I get busier with my own work (or come to the decision that she’s no longer worth helping), she’s going to have to figure things out on her own.

Absolutely no one else in that office has shunned me because of my age, but the one person who did still feels compelled to rely on me like truly everything between us is just fine and dandy.  I don’t get it, but so long as there’s money attached to being helpful, at least to her, I’ll continue to do it.

Age ain’t nothing but a number, like the title of Aaliyah’s first studio album from 1994 (which except for one song, I didn’t care for this album), but at least in my life, it’s apparently cause for people to think little of you, especially when there are other people around.

Public image is a big deal to some people, I guess.  I’m just glad that I don’t give a fuck about other people’s opinions, nor do I care about the ages of those with whom I interact or engage, especially those people I identify as friends.

Pick a number, any number.  I don’t care.  Eventually, I think that I’m just going to stop giving a fuck.