Life, Part II
I’m at the cusp of what I call “Life, Part-II. ” Life Part-II (LP2) is what I’ve chosen to call age 50. My expectations of LP2 waiver between forced frugality to modest living. But what’s mostly on my mind is the hope of making friends, socializing, and resting and relaxing.
The other day I spoke to a female friend whom is also entering LP2. She described a recent experience at an establishment which hosts Friday night kareoke each week. I know the place. It’s a nice little spot across from the beach which remains dormant Sundays through Thursdays. Friday’s kareoke night transforms it into a local hotspot. A gamut of people of all ages descend upon the place to hear, cheer, and boo those who dare don the mike to give up their best renditions of popular songs of all genres’. In between the live singing, recorded music brings several patrons to their feet for a little dancing. Non-dancers exit the place for a drink, a smoke, and conversation out by the beach. All in all, it’s a a great place to meet and greet people of all types.
During her last visit to the place, my friend felt - as she described it - “invisible;” totally invisible to be exact. She’d been there several times and had always enjoyed herself by dancing with the men who’d invite her to the dance floor. I was one of those men a scant two years ago. We spoke at length about her recent experience trying to pinpoint the cause of her invisibility. As we spoke, I searched my mind looking for a similar experience. As I searched, I realized how I had recently had an invisibility experience of my own. I shared my thoughts and she agreed. It seemed to us that the cause of our invisibility was driven by a handful of factors. Being divorcees seemed to be one of them. The other was approaching LP2, and the changes that, our lives, our bodies and appearance go through. Workout as I may, that slight flabby layer of flesh refuses to abandon my midsection. My once thick and curly jet black hair is now thin and disappearing by the second. Though still attractive, my friend complains of her pudgy arms and receding gum line.
Who among us hasn’t either heard or read, “50 is the new 40.” Yeah, right! Sure, LP2 isn’t old age nor a death sentence. But neither is it “the new 39” so many claim it to be. If it is, where’s that early 40’s vibrancy I use to feel only until recently?
Sure, I’ll be the first to admit that my desire to dance is not what it once was. But, while that is quickly fleeing, I still do want friends whom to converse and socialize with. I don’t want to be “invisible.” Solitude seems to be the greatest challenge I will have to contend with. This is by far the one thing I must overcome to make LP2 worth living after struggling so much to get here.