I don’t wear a wedding ring. I am not protesting or trying to make a statement, my fingers just got to fat. When we were renovating our house my wife sent me to a lighting gallery to pick-up cut sheets on some fixtures she had picked out. The lady helping me said “If your wife has any questions just tell her to call me.” Now, I had not mentioned that I was married or that my wife had sent me on this “errand” so I asked her how did she know I was married? In a sweet southern voice that only a southern man would appreciate she said “Baby you got married written all over your face.”
As an almost 60-year-old man (actually right in the middle but rounding up) I no longer get the looks or glances from the ladies like I “kind of” use to get (at least in my imagination I did). I am not sure when all that ended, maybe when my forehead turned into a six-head (get it?), when my jet-black hair turned gray, when my chin turned into chins, whenever it occurred, I became invisible which is a fascinating sensation.
You may be asking yourself, self, if he is married (30+ years) why does he give a shit that some 30-year-old or 40-year-old babe doesn’t turn around and say “Damn” when I walk past her. Real simple, caveman. As evolved as I might think I am, as deep, thoughtful and compassionate as I may be, at my core I am still just a knuckle dragging caveman with a caveman size ego.
A friend of mine left his wife in January. I ran into him at lunch this week and honestly didn’t recognize him. He had lost some weight, his hair was longer and “styled”, new glasses, hip (is that still a term?) clothes and a very different aura about him. I asked him how he was doing, how his son was, and what was new in his life. All were good plus, he added, he was dating a 32-year-old nurse. All I had for him was, thumbs up, good for you.
I went back to my office and pulled out my calculator. Roger, not his real name, is 55 years old, born in 1961. The nurse was born in 1984. In 1984 Roger was 23 so in reality he could be her father. Other than her looks (assuming she looks goods), his money, beach house and new Range Rover, I wondered what they would have in common, what would they talk about? Music? Books? Life experiences? Maybe it is about sex, or Roger’s mortality, I don’t know. So I pulled out the calculator again, when Roger is 80 (if he doesn’t die from a Viagra overdose beforehand) his nurse friend will be 57. I hope they will be happy, who knows.
I guess this caveman will continue to walk around with “married” written all over his face but ladies if you see me on the street do me a favor, pretend like you see me. Speaking for all the other invisible cavemen in your community we could milk that one very quick (even if insincere) look for a long, long, long time. We thank you.