I’m In Seattle for a weekend with my kids.  Well, not kids, exactly.  My daughters are young adults, 22 and 23 years old.  Tonight, my older daughter Emily heard from an old friend she knows from theater who invited us to meet him at the bar where he works, in the Capitol district.  I was game.

The two of us went to meet him, and we had to stand in line while they checked IDs.  As we waited, a guy passed from the other direction and said, “Come on girl, you too old to be getting in this club.”  I may or may not have turned around and hollered “Fuck you, asshole!”

I was doing nothing out of the ordinary.  I was standing politely in line, not demanding attention, not soliciting dick-headed comments from the penis gallery.   I was offended.  What the hell business of his was it where I was or why?  And why did I feel like somehow I needed to justify myself?

I know my age.  Fifty-two bright and beautiful years have passed by my eyes.  The eyes that donned reading glasses to write this piece.  I have earned and processed each one of those years.  I have come through hard times to stand before you as a stronger woman, ready to face what life has to bring.  I have learned enough not to judge others most of the time, and when I do, I just leave it to the little bitchy voice in my head.  And that is where it stays, a snap internal reaction – in my HEAD – where no harm is done.

I don’t say shit out loud to people!

As my daughter and I sat at the table, I was still fuming.  I know I should let it go.  The guy was kinda geeky.  Maybe he’d had bad luck that night.  How could he know I was a babe in my day?  But my day was, admittedly, the 80’s.  I’m 52 now.  Should I hide myself away in mortal shame?

No, you know what?  No.  I have as much right, hell, even MORE right than you, geeky un-laid jerk, to be anywhere I want to be.  Those girls in their twenties, gorgeous, inept, drunk, whatever they are – I have been there and surpassed it.  This bar was nothing special.  I didn’t have to do anything to deserve to be there.  In fact, we waited about ten minutes for Emily’s friend to get off work and we went to a bar closer to our hotel and more intimate.   We left the bar crowded full of youngsters,  of young women displaying their bodies and young men eyeing them.  We stayed a while and talked and had intelligent, grownup conversations about travel and culture.

After that, I took my leave.  We old gals need our beauty sleep, and I’m not so senile that I don’t know when to gracefully bow out and let the kids have their fun.

PS  Thanks for this blog title go out to my younger daughter, Veronica, who blissfully slept through the whole encounter back at the hotel!


About catnipkiss

I am a writer who is working on a travel memoir. I write about issues that speak to my soul: love, sex, yoga, spirituality, body image, dating and friendship, and more as it comes up! I love comments - thanks! What would YOU like to explore?
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