I remember as a young teen, showing off in front of my older brother and his pals only to have one of them say to me, “Act your age, not your bra size.” I thought, “Oh, you’re dumb. Everyone knows training is not an age!” When we were in high school, we would tell boys, “Act your age, not your shoe size.” And when we became older, we were plied with new mantras like “age is relative” and “age is only a number.”
Can these two philosophies co-exist? Let’s test them by applying them to a night out on the town.
My BFF flew into Atlanta for a weekend of fun. I purchased tickets to an Improv Comedy Club and we thought perhaps we would go out afterward for a cocktail. Or two.
Acting our age: All dolled up and at the theater awaiting the start of the show, we have a cocktail and chat.
But, finishing those cocktails and being talked into buying a BUCKET of beers? Oh, yes, I know, the bucket was full of ice and we merely wanted to keep our beverages cold. Right. AND we didn’t want the pesky chore of going back and forth to the bar during the show. RIGHT. Nothing says “Classy lassy” more than two grown women carrying a bucket of beers. I think there is a sliding scale for when age is relative. Sliding scale says: Beer in a bucket? Shave a decade off, ladies. Starting this night out nicely.
Acting our age: We loved the show and laughed hysterically. The couple next to us, all dewy and in love, were also laughing hysterically.
But, then the man next to us got BOMBED. And everytime they would kiss, which was about every 10 seconds, he would moan. So it sounded like: MMMMM, nom nom nom, MMMMM kiss, kiss, mmmmmmm, no I love you the most, mmmmm, NO I LOVE YOU THE MOST, mmmm, nom nom nom. And we would simultaneously think OH BROTHER and then giggle uncontrollably. Sliding scales says: You are acting like 12 year old girls.
Acting our age: Take a brisk walk from the theater to a very cool bar a few blocks away. Arriving at that bar and consuming beverages while listening to the band.
But, en route to that bar, passing an old haunt that has a new Black Eyed Peas song blaring out the front door and it was so enticing we had to saunter in and go to town like it was the Spotlight Dance at the Copacabana. Sliding scale says: Oh, you really liked your late 20s.
Acting our age: Arriving at a third bar. Grabbing a drink and parking it near the DJ.
But, after awhile when the DJ asks what we want to listen to and I shout over the music “Something I can shake my ass to…” Sliding scale says: WOW, you really like reliving your 21st birthday, don’t you?
Acting our age: Running into the younger brother of one of my friends and when he offers us shots, we wisely and politely decline.
But, when he asks again, we don't even hesitate and think Oh, WHY NOT? And put them down quicker than a house fire. What kind of shots? Red Headed Sluts. Sliding scale says: Congratulations, now you are 21 year old boys.
And the next morning? When your toddler brays in your ear like a donkey in a microphone and your response is mew mew mew, Daddy just told me he would love to help you with that, mew mew mew, I'm so sleepy, mew mew mew alcohol hurt my feelings...well done, now you are acting your shoe size.
So yes, apparently acting your age and age is relative can co-exist. At least after several cocktails, it seems like a very good theory.