Monday, September 7, 2009

Why three's company

Internet, I am old. I realize this is one of those contentious statements that will surely infuriate anyone older than me, while those of you who are younger are smugly nodding your heads going, yes, yes you are. (I know you are, don't try to deny it. Let's not forget that I used to be you.) Of course, at what point one can actually be considered "old" is probably one of the most subjective things in the world, but if it's true that you're only as old as you feel, then Internet, I feel old. It's like the world around me keeps getting younger and younger as I watch myself age. (Being a teacher doesn't help this, of course.) Of the five people in my house, I am the oldest, my roommates ranging in age from 23 to 27. And you know how I know I am getting old is this: I have stopped telling people my age. Before, I never had a problem with it. "I'm twenty-five," I would tell people, completely blasé. "I'm twenty-six. I'm twenty-seven." But sometime in the last couple of years, that all changed. Now whenever the subject of age comes up, I put on my best Mona Lisa smile and gaze mysteriously into the mid-distance. And so what did I do this weekend, of course, but yet again spend time in the company of twenty-three year-olds. I can't really explain why, but lately it's been like young moths to a significantly older wiser flame.

So I went to the Brew Fest with my roommate on Saturday, and after sticking pretty closely to his side for a little while, eventually he introduced me to a group of Cronell people that he knew. (Cronell being, of course, Mythaca's premiere institution of higher learning. Google robots be damned!) And then I lost track of my roommate altogether, but it was ok because I soon struck up a conversation with a tall, bearded engineering student, who then introduced me to his tall, not bearded engineering student roommate. And so we walked around together, and they spent the next few hours fetching me beer and escorting me to the portapotty line and generally being very sweet and accommodating, considering we had only just met each other. At some point the three of us stretched out beneath a tree for a rest, and the conversation turned to movies, specifically, top five of all time. I gave the non-bearded one a hard time for having Ghostbusters and Die Hard in his top five. "Oh, what do you like," he said, "The Notebook or something?"

"Oh come on," I rolled my eyes. (Although honestly? The Notebook? Gets me every time. *Sob*)

"Titanic?" asked the other.

"Ok, I have to admit I did see Titanic in the theaters like three times when I was seventeen," I said. "And whoops, I just gave away my age there."

"Oh, I don't know when Titanic came out," they said, looking at each other. "But you can't be more than twenty-five," said one.

I smiled. "I think I love you."

"Er, twenty-seven?" he asked.

"Sure," I laughed.

They looked at each other, becoming visibly more uncomfortable. "You...can't be...thirty?" he said. I just shrugged. "Well she's not going to tell you now," said the other. I smiled inscrutably and gazed off into the distance.

From there the beer fest tapered off, vendors stopped serving, and the conversation turned to other topics, namely, our ravenous and beer-fueled hunger. "We have some Tuscan beef stew cooking in the slow cooker back at the house," they said, which was just so adorable that I had to say so. "You should come, if you want." And, since I was hungry, and I didn't know how to get back to my house, and I seemed to have lost my roommate for good, I went with them, their neighbor coming to pick us all up and drive us back. Walking into their apartment was like being transported back in time: a fridge in the kitchen, another one in the living room just for beer, t.v. held up on boards and cinder blocks, playing an episode of Futurama. It was college all over again. The Tuscan beef stew was, as promised, delicious.

Here is where things start to get sticky, as soon thereafter I found myself tagging along with them to a "party" (a bunch of first-year Cronell grad students sitting uncomfortably in chairs crammed into someone's off-campus apartment), and I realized several things, simultaneously: a) after consuming beer all afternoon followed by a rib-sticking meal, I was no longer able to keep my eyelids from closing, b) I wanted to go home, c) I didn't know where I was, and d) I didn't have my car and had no idea how to get back. Ok, and e) I didn't have a map or f) money for a cab. Things were not looking good. The non-bearded one, who seemed to have won some unspoken coin toss or rock paper scissors at some point during the evening, and thus was allowed to sit next to me while his roommate busied himself elsewhere, offered to walk me home. We borrowed someone's iPhone long enough to figure out where we were, and I pointed to where I lived, and we both decided that it was far. "Yup, that's far," we said, but since we didn't seem to have much choice, we started walking. And so we walked. And we walked. And we walked. We walked across Cronell's campus, we walked past streams and waterfalls, over hill and dale, past deer grazing and undergrads partying and down streets I had never seen before, and still, we walked. Three miles, one solid hour, and two disgusting and fluid-filled blisters later, I was finally home. "Well," I sighed, "let me get my keys and drive you home." So I did. But not before responding to the seemingly innoculous question, "Do you like bluegrass?" with "yeah, sure," and thus getting roped into attending a bluegrass concert with him on Thursday. Though for some reason my "Yes I will go to the bluegrass concert with you" wasn't convincing enough, as he has since re-confirmed like six different times already. Yes, I said I would go with you so yes, I'll go, even if I am regretting it a bit now, yes I know it's on Thursday, yes, just stop asking me already! I mean, I've heard of guys not taking no for an answer, but this is ridiculous.

"We're grilling steaks and corn tomorrow," he and his roommate both told me at dinner. "You should come over!"

Internet, I think I've made new friends. (Help!)


  1. they sound awesome!! just make sure they keep their shoes near their person. and let yourself have fun with these sweet sounding guys!!! who cook! and like blue grass! yay!!!!

  2. I don't think you can go wrong with engineers (speaking with personal knowledge). Also, we like hot old ladies, so I don't think you have a problem there either.

  3. I used to have no problem telling people my age (31 yo), until I recently became single. I feel like when I tell people they think "what's wrong with you that you're single at this age." Then I start to ask myself..."yeah, what IS wrong with you?".

    I think this will go away once I have confidence in myself and who I am as a single person. I hope this same for you!

  4. i'm psyched (yeah, there i go showing MY AGE! lol) for you. they sound like cool guys. hang out. have fun. be social! it's all good! no one gives a hoot (shit) about age! :)

  5. fuck it, one of them might have an older bro, or an older bro with friends! enjoy their company for what it is. when it gets boring, stop hanging out with them.

  6. Anonymous- I've thought of that. The sad thing is I am old enough so that their older brothers could still be younger than my little sister. Ack!!

    But yes, age is just a number and all that.

  7. well, to be fair age isn't just a number: i think that in terms of life experience, there could be a world of difference between you and someone just 5yrs younger. but the (good) catch is that oftentimes people DO have the same/similar experiences DESPITE being younger.

    but let's not get ahead of ourselves: these guys are just friends, and there's definitely nothing wrong with getting to know them first, before deciding if they're 'too young'. and it sounds like you had a fun night with them.

    my husband is a year younger than me (we're in our late 20s). not a huge difference, but i'd always had older boyfriends, at least 3-6yrs older, could never imagine myself with someone my own age. but then it happened!

  8. No worries! It sounds like they're afraid you're going to back out at the last minute (men are idiots). And as for them being younger...mneh.

    See, now this is the part where I recite some anecdotal story proving that I know what the hell I'm talking about.

    Well, I don't have any qualifications, other than that my boyfriend is younger than me. We've been friends for almost 8 years now, and I had never even considered dating him because of his age.

    Finally, one day, he basically just told me to stop using age as an excuse to hide behind.

    That led to much blinking and thinking. And so I decided to date him.

    And y'know what? Best relationship of my life. And I'm not just saying that because I'm in it now. :-p

    My advice (unwanted though it may be) is to have some fun with the boys. Even if they don't prove to be your prince charming(s), at the very least you'll get a free meal.