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Man-to-Man: On growing old My subconscious recently approached my conscious mind about writing an article explaining the difference between life now and the way life was back in my younger days. My conscious mind enquired about what exactly it was referring to? “Well it’s hard to go wrong in a men’s magazine if you talk about sex, power and money.” said my subconscious. So, let’s begin with sex. My better half staunchly refuses me sex with any of the semi-clad, twenty-something, women working at my publisher’s office. When I point to her that it will only take a second, that the girls will hardly notice, that it will mean nothing to me at all, and that the doctor did say that sexual activity of any kind is good for a man my age, she throws me a look Napoleon gave Russia. I pretended I was joking. But now you know where the reigns of power rest and the money too. We have a lifetime deal; fifty-fifty right down the middle. I earn it; she spends it. Owe, we do love each other fiercely. Whatever her name is? My power like my body shows signs of dissipating. Now when I look into the mirror, I realise I will need my glasses… I still have healthy teeth, but sadly they are Chinese teeth — like Canadian politicians they are crooked and stained from use, going in all directions at once. My mind? Well it received a summons to appear in court last month, but forgot the post-it-note it pinned to the refrigerator. It forgets how to pronounce words at times — preferring to say them backwards. At times my mind seems to have Alzheimer-like symptoms, where it refuses to see objects in front of my face. My glasses, my coffee, my cat’s, my wife all seem to disappear as soon as I’m looking for them. Personally I prefer book-lag, the exhaustion a writer feels after a successful book launching. Sometimes visualising the object in my mind helps my nose lead me to the object of my desire. I follow the aroma of my coffee, my mistress’s fragrant perfume, and the cat’s you can smell from across town. Don’t let me fool you. Aging isn’t funny. I still feel sixteen, but every time I start thinking so the bedroom light comes on and this ugly old man jumps out of the wall mirror at me. In fact I recommend never getting old. Forget all the advertisements telling you to invest your money for your retirement — stay young forever. Not frantically fumbling to remember the name of the woman you have lived with for centuries. So gentlemen, I have to go now. There are a couple nice men in white coats holding a large needle and accompanying jacket out to me. Perhaps its time to sit on a balcony over looking a slowly meandering stream, maybe its time for my Viagra… If things persist I’m going to kill my f…king doctor. One or two final points: Don’t play golf it will prematurely age you. Turn off the squawk box; they’ll only try to convince you your getting old. Can people who look that good really be trusted? Just keep forgetting everybody’s name and complaining about everything. Since these two treasures are one of the few pleasures of getting old.
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Warren Hayashi
