Some of the young people I work with probably think I’m the biggest humdrum and that I’ve always been like that even when I was their age. At times, I wonder if they went as far as imagining me knitting sweaters on weekends (FYI, I don’t know any needlework).
I remember how my jaws dropped when one asked me if I know the band The Cranberries when Dolores O'Riordan died two years ago, and the same person asking me recently if I know who Kobe Bryant was — as if both weren’t even from my time.
To some, older makes you dumber. They think you’re less smart and less competent compared to everyone else. They automatically assume that just because I know zilch about K-Dramas, who Billie Eilish is or what’s on Netflix, that I also don’t know many other things.
Sadly, there are many other notions about people my age that sucks. Just a few weeks ago, we had an “Amazing Race” team activity in the office and before that my manager asked me if I’d have any “issues”. I didn’t quite understand what he meant at first but realized later on that he was checking if I can still participate.
To be honest, it offended me a bit. Running may not be my favorite activity and I might have been candid on some of the health issues I’m experiencing, but it’s annoying how some treat me like I’m almost immobile to bail out on activities that would require physical effort. That something as simple as social dancing would break my bones or a light race would be enough to schlep me to the ER.
I can bet you my paycheck that I’m in way better shape than some people half my age.
***
Maybe they think that I spent most of my younger years as how I am now.
My mother was born beyond the generation of the Baby Boomers so she’s pretty strict, outspokenly conservative and believed in the idea that children should be seen and not heard. My brothers and I were raised with punitive discipline.
If I tell you some of the rules we have at home you will think I’m making it up. Like how I was expected to be home by 6 PM and not a minute after (except when I have choir practice or any other parish activity). If I dare test her, I had to brace myself and choose from getting hit with a stick or sharply pinched in the waist on top of getting an earful. This went on until my first few years in college, I kid you not.
Be that as it may, I’ve always been kinda rebellious that even if her mere glare was enough to scare the shit out of me, it didn’t stop me from doing many stupid, crazy, reckless things. Even with her strict rules and watchful eye, I was still able to go around it.
I learned how to drink when I was 16, barely a year after I got my first period. Even if I only weigh around ninety pounds then, I am able to chug down bottles of beer without getting smashed. By college, I was into hard liquor — gin, whiskey, tequila, vodka, even lambanog and never blacked out. I was always the one left standing. I never stand on top of tables and dance provocatively though, and no one had to bring me home unconscious. The only effect alcohol had on me was me getting all chatty (and a head-splitting hangover the morning after), but I was never wasted.
I know how to have fun that sometimes I have disobeyed a lot of rules to do them. I have forged excuse letters and cut classes in a school run by nuns; I pranked friends, even stalked my crush’s house every Saturday. I enjoyed watching band concerts, snuck at bars and billiard halls but telling my parents I was somewhere else doing some group project. I tried smoking for a while until I realized there’s nothing cool about smelling like nicotine and having bad breath after.
Since I have not been in a relationship for a while now, some take it that I’m a prude who can’t take naughty jokes. I noticed how the younglings would stop mid-sentence and weigh my reaction when they start talking in sexual undertones as if I’ll chide them for it. Goodness, if they only knew this one time I unintentionally introduced Maria Ozawa to my former guy officemates — not proud — then perhaps they’d realize I know more than I let on when it comes to sex.
While I didn’t go as far as doing drugs (except maybe this one time I accidentally ate a slice of ganja cake), gambling, going to gay bars or being promiscuous, I had my fair share of mischiefs and impropriety.
You may ask, why the hell am I saying this?
Because I may reek “Titas of Manila” now but I’m not always like this. I knew how to have fun, break rules and live life on the crazy side. If you think that all I’ve ever been is this seemingly quiet and boring tita, then you’re sorely mistaken. What you younglings are doing now, I have done it before — and maybe, just maybe, I did it even better.
People change. I’ve changed. So many things I thought mattered then are now inconsequential. If for anything, my life has steadily gotten better even without much “happenings” as a twentysomething would have. Besides, I wasn’t into anything most people are getting into now, such as K-Pop or Tik-Tok-ing, so I don’t think I’m missing out a lot.
I may no longer share the same love for alcohol or miss being part of a big social circle, but that’s okay. I will trade a noisy, crowded environment to the comfort of my own bedroom in a heartbeat; I no longer care that much if I’m out of touch with pop culture or things I’m missing out on; I’d rather retire early on Friday nights than go clubbing till 4 AM because I already had my good part of it.
Sure, I have poked fun on myself for being older and made some jokes about it, but let me tell you that the only person allowed to make fun of me — is me. I would not tolerate a cruel age joke thrown my way, especially in the workplace. It’s hard to ignore the disrespect behind an age joke.
I haven’t felt the desire to do again all those enjoyable and sometimes inappropriate things I did before, but it doesn’t mean I am now living a totally fun-less existence.
Some should seriously quit treating me differently (or worse, underestimate me) just because I’m older.
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