The following post is not only approved by my wife, but was actually suggested by her. Women, don’t get mad at me. It’s all her doing.
As a young lad, I remember learning about life expectancy. I was horrified. As a male, I was doomed to depart this life long before my female peers. It was terrifying. I knew that someday I would marry one of these female peers. I didn’t want to spend my life with a person, only to have them outlive me.
That’s when I decided that I would marry an older woman.
It was the perfect plan. If I married someone who was farther along in years than me, we would, theoretically, die at the same time. No one would be left alone and, more importantly, I would not have lost the “who can live the longest” game to my spouse. As a second grader, this seemed very important.
Years later, I followed through with this plan. I would meet a delightful young lady who was a full two and half years older than me. While the life expectancy between the two genders is around four years, I figured I could make up some distance by stressing her out a bit, taking years off of her life. (Note: My wife has read this and confirms that I have, indeed, shaved that life expectancy gap a bit shorter.)
The plan has backfired. All along, I thought I was married to a twenty-something, close to my own age.
As it turns out, I married an old dame.
Sure, she looks like she is young. In fact, she acts very young at times. She likes indie rock that no one over the age of thirty would even attempt to enjoy. She reads People magazine and knows which Kardashian is which. That is clearly a sign of youth.
This does not fool me, though. She has to be a 75-year-old.
I began to realize her real age one day as I sat in my living room. There, on the coffee table in front of me, was a candy dish full of hard candies. Not just any hard candy, mind you, but Werthers’ Originals, the official hard candy of the elderly.
Nothing is wrong with having a candy dish. Some of my favorite people have candy dishes. A person of her age, though, should want to fill this dish with Lifesavers or other colorful, fruity candies. Instead, it looked like she was about to invite Wilford Brimley over for a “Murder She Wrote” marathon followed by a session of talking about the good old days.
Then, I began to pay more attention. She was constantly knitting. In the morning, she walks like her knees are having an arthritic attack. She frequently said things like “dagnabbit” and could be heard letting out an “Oh, honey…” in response to stories that did not, in anyway, involve her honey. She buys a great deal of clothing at antique stores, often times giving her that odd scent of mothballs and perfume that old ladies frequently have. She absolutely adores Betty White. I assume that’s because she can relate to her.
The final proof came when I got into her car a few days ago. Replacing the youthful angst of Bright Eyes or the whimsical infancy of Kimya Dawson was the “Mamas and the Papas Greatest Hits.” When asked why, she said it brought back memories of her childhood. Knowing she did not grow up in 1965, this did not add up.
Don’t get me wrong. I, myself, am prone to acting like an old man. I complain about TV and music, saying it just isn’t as good as it used to be. My inner-curmudgeon will cause me to, frequently, talk about the stupidity of today’s kids. I once almost bought a tweed jacket.
My companion, though, seems to have contracted the disease from Robin Williams’ “Jack,” aging at rapid speed. By the end of the year, she may be celebrating her centennial with a cup of lukewarm decaf coffee and whatever show is on the Hallmark channel.
Maybe it’s my fault. I haven’t done much to encourage her inner-child to come out. Maybe I should buy her a trampoline or force her to have ice cream, and ice cream alone, for dinner. These things would surely bring back childlike behavior that seems to be missing.
The only other option is to age quicker myself. I’ll give up my episodes of “Community” and replace them with reruns of “Bonanza.” I’ll vote Republican without a second thought.
The aging plan must continue. With just a bit of work, I can make it happen. The old lady and I will kick the bucket at the exact same time.
I’ve got a lot of work to do, though. I still think Werthers’ are super-yucky.
That’s not what an old person like the new me should think.
🙂 tell you wife she is not alone. I’m way old. I’m constantly complaining about ‘loud music’ and ‘going out’
i just dont knit (yet)
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I believe my wife would write a similar post about me. Now that I have officially turned 30, which is about a year and half older than her, she always nitpicks about how my body is falling apart and she needs to trade me in. Just because a guy likes to have dinner at 4:00pm doesn’t mean I’m old, does it?
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No. It just means your body is sooooo youthful, you need your nourishment sooner.
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You feel your falling apart from age at 30, sorry but thats kind of pathetic.
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Not as pathetic as this comment.
Hahaha! Wouldn’t it be crazy if I was really mean enough to say that seriously? Well, I have a water aerobics class to hit followed by Bingo at the local senior center, so I have to be going.
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I am glad to hear that you and Mrs. Badley had a great time writing this one or else you would be in big trouble!!! Love the photo….
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loool..I love this post..I can just feel the love oooozing…lool 😛
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Old people are the wisest. I’m 19 but I have more old friends than friends my age.
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They are pretty smart. There are exceptions, of course, but they should know more.
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Way too funny! I sure hope my husband doesn’t secretly say the same thing! Though, I do not have a candy dish anywhere in the house so maybe I’m okay! 😉
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If you’re an old lady, you’re at least hiding it well. The first thing the elderly do is grab a candy dish.
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When I read the first two paragraphs or so, I awwwwed. Less awwwing for the rest of it. But you’re right about the Werther’s and the knitting. Even I don’t do that, and I’m in my mid-30s and never listen to music on the radio anymore because it’s so annoying. Ach, these kids.
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Don’t even get me started on the kids these days. In my day, I had to walk 14 miles to school up a hill that was coated in shattered glass. There was a three mile stretch where I was forced to avoid rabid dogs. Then, at the end of the day, I had to walk back. Kids these days have busses and cars to get to school.
What a bunch of wieners.
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I look a lot younger than my biological age, and I happen to like younger guys. Guys my age look so wasted, it’s a shame. So I’ll just keep on praying my prince in shining armour will show up someday soon…
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Where are you hanging out that all of the guys look wasted? It seems like you could go somewhere else and find less wasted looking gentlemen, no matter the age.
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You are a lucky man. Your wife is a looker.
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I know, right?
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Too funny! But you just wait until you get old (and I don’t mean in your 30s)!
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I forgot to tell you (because your post was so good) that I am awarding you the ABC (Awesome Blog Content) Award. I’ll post tomorrow. Hope you don’t mind these types of awards. I’ve had my fill of them, but I just can’t say no!
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Well, thank you very much. I don’t believe I’ve had this one. Hooray!
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Aww I love this post. At home we have a candy dish full of werthers’ orginal sweets, its so addicting!
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Gross.
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All you can do is hope she doesn’t decide you are too young for her as she rapidly grows old and then runs off with Wilford Brimley after their TV marathon…
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You have just written down my worst nightmare.
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No candy dish – check. No Mamas and Papas music – check. No knitting – check. Oh good, I’m not as old as I thought. Thanks for making me younger, or at least feel that way. And isn’t it dangnabbit?? Just asking.
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I’ve heard it both ways. According to Dictionary.com, the word is Dagnabbit. It is based on the phrase “dang rabbit” that Elmer Fudd once said.
The more you know…
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what a great post! if this doesn’t sum up true love, then I don’t know what does..
Now where did I put my Werther’s?
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Hopefully in the trash. If you haven’t heard, they are not tasty.
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great post, with time progressing so quickly I’m sure we all feel a bit “old” for our age at some point, and what better way to express it then Werthers and the smell of mothballs. Oh perhaps some tissues up your sleeve? I hear thats a great place to keep them. My question is, at what age do you look your candy bowl in the face and realize Werthers are the next occupant?
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The tissue up the sleeve thing reminded me that my wife has, in fact, placed tissues in her sleeve.
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Tissues placed in elderly sleeves are better than tissues placed in youngling’s bras!
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There’s nothing better than being old. I feel and act like I’m 80 (when you are 30 and in a wheelchair, its easy) all the time. You need to get your wife a “grabber” thing, and a pill organizer, a bath bench, maybe a walker with tennis balls on the end. I even have an EMS which works my muscles out for me…AARP has some great benefits too. Ah, the life of the elderly is sure nice.
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My wife is short, so she might actually use the grabber thing. Valentine’s day is coming up…
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Maybe some knee-high pantyhose too…actually those might be thigh-highs on her.
Sorry, Nathan’s wife, I just couldn’t resist.
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She might not be that far from that now.
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Werthers candies are so yummy! Coming from someone who is quite young. But now I am writing this I am beginning to wonder whether perhaps I am an old lady in secret too.
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They are not. You get away from my blog immediately. You will be welcomed back when you enjoy a more delicious candy.
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