Inappropriately Appropriate

One of my least favorite phrases these days as we explore this new chapter of my life is “age appropriate.”
It is usually used in some kind of context as to where people should go out to socialize.
“Oh, I wouldn’t go there,” she says, barely feigning kindness, “You should go somewhere more age appropriate.”
Ah. So in today’s Brave New World you must not only be a certain age to get into places but apparently you can age out of them after a while as well.
Do bouncers card for overage?
“But..but…what if I really like the band? Or the food? Maybe I’m meeting some people I know. Maybe I just want to go somewhere that I’ve been going to since before half of the current crowd was even born! Does any of that count?”
Don’t misunderstand. With the exception of a few of my co-workers and any young woman with the last name of Bremner I have little interest in even talking to any younglings, let alone dating one.
The complete inability to even grasp any of my numerous cultural references grows tedious quickly.
“Who’s Marlon Brando?”
“Where’s Green Acres?”
“Carpenters? Were they a singing group or a trade union?”
Good grief! I may not have lived through the Civil War but I know it happened!
Both my free time and my disposable income have limits these days so spending an evening out babysitting holds no great allure.
I like going to places that cater to people my age but I also reserve the right to frequent any other place without being made to feel that it’s creepy to even be there.
Anything else seems somehow…inappropriate.

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