A Seat at the Bar: Incidents of age and cruising through the day on your own

I wish there was a way to begin this writing with a yell of sorts. A yell that simultaneously hollers:?WHAT? NO WAY!?and?YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME!. So,?AHHHHH!!!?As I walked into that pretty cool gastronomy pub, I was immediately greeted by a dapper young mask-covered host. Everything seemed fine until…

I asked for a table for one, (which seemed like a normal request, as I was alone) to which he responded, “Would you like a seat at the bar?”?No thank you, I replied, at which point he looked at me oddly. (What? Was there spinach on my mask?) I quickly slid into my defense validating my preference with:?I hate that whole belly up to the bar ear-to-ear dynamic.?

I followed him into a small room with a couch and coffee table, a few community tables and a small table tucked into the corner. He suggested the dark corner table for my dining pleasure “…so, you can have privacy”. And he was right, it was very private, like cut off from society private. As we scanned the room, he assured me that people generally don’t like the couch, “kind of difficult to sit on and eat”. Compared to the corner it looked so comfortable. You guessed it; you know exactly where I sat. Not only was I comfortable, but my dinner was great. However, reeling back for a moment, that poor host was at a such a loss when I told him it was a perfect place to sit. He seemed to need a few minutes on the couch to gather himself.?

Wondering what this horribly awkward exchange was about? So was I, and then it hit me! I am old. Not a member of the frail elderly, but I showed up older than some and alone. To put this in perspective, certainly, I am significantly older than my hospitable host. This epiphany came while I was eating.?I looked up and into the adjoining room to see two people. They were both sitting at the bar a few seats from each other. They were both middle-aged and alone. They were old and alone…like me! Almost stereotypically, the woman drank wine, the man drank beer and I wondered,?has the bar become a perch for the old?

I distinctly remember not being old enough to sit at a bar, so I guess I have arrived. Very exciting.?

This experience reminds me of so many other moments. Being spoken to like I drive a mini-van (no offense if you drive a mini-van). Being asked if I need help when shopping, not out of simple kindness, more like I am decrepit. Having my hair cut and freaking out because they cut my hair as if I spend all year hawking my kid’s girl-scout cookies to neighbors. Do you want to sit at the bar? No, I want to go to a music fest. I want to go to an underground art show for emerging artists. No, I want to buy that three-wheeled Can-Am. I want to hang out, not convalesce, with my friends. This is not a crisis. Simply, I am not done yet.

Being young at heart, having fun or thinking that life (while having a few more rings around your tree) is simply great, not infantile or sophomoric. Nor is it irresponsibly dismissive of significant issues. Why is it that when we become older, we have to do things like cut our hair shorter and stop dancing (I don’t mean that arm-in-arm rocking back and forth dancing thing at a wedding). Morphing into your older years, at your pace, is fine but why the expectations and push? Why do we have to abandon, or be forced to mature past the things we enjoy (as if we are the victim of corporate downsizing)? This is not a mandated call to take the package. This is developing through your life. This is your life.?

I do not mean that pretending to be a member of a different age group is the way to go. Clearly, developmentally, you are a part of your generation, which is perfect. More so, that moment where a Boomer is posing as a member of Gen Z never goes well. Pretending to align never works - being yourself does.?Also, there is nothing mature about forcing people to be who they are not. If they want to sit on the couch, let them do it. If they get stuck in the deep-seated couch, they will either ask for help or throw themselves on to the floor as they try to thrust themselves to a standing position. They are all grown up, let them do what they want.?

These are my thoughts. What are yours??Join me to discuss this by making a comment below. It will be interesting to continue this discussion - no matter your age. (By the way, I just had to lean in to the light and squint to read the restaurant check.)

Finally old enough to sit at the bar,

Allyson