I’ve got a horrible, horrible feeling that I am in the early stages of a mid-life crisis. I don’t want to prematurely inflame the situation but I really get the sense I am only a few years off the stereotypically tragic midlife crisis with all the clichéd trappings.
Now we’ve all mocked and laughed at celebs who’ve so obviously gone through it, and we’ve whispered and gossiped about our friend’s dads and workmates who go all MLC. I’ve enjoyed this as much as anyone. But now I think I get it, I understand it, and this is not something to be laughed at. It is a deep-seeded, psychological issue that I can’t seem to control.
Let me take you through a few of the early warning signs that I am currently experiencing…
Now that I’ve grown my hair into a quiff that resembles Andrew McCarthy in the 80’s I am desperate to get some frosted tips! I would just kill for some beautiful honey highlights. Even if it was just through my newly acquired floppy fringe. Now I know that a man of a certain age should never ever get foils, but that doesn’t change the fact that I really, really want to.
|Fabio I adore your frosted tips.|
I’ve started dancing again! I actually believe I’m a real groover on the dance floor – I’ve got my mojo back. I haven’t danced, like in a nightclub, for years and of late I am literally pushing people off the podium. Just this weekend I was whipping out some of my very best moves. The harsh reality is they look more like a Young Talent Time performance than booty shakin’ the young folk are bustin’ out. I think at one point I even did a grapevine. The moment I do the ‘wave’ I will be kicked out for sure. My MLC has made me think I am a young hip, cool kid who can boogie-woogie.
|Disco dancing like its YTT at The Beat|
Speaking of going out… I am playing in bars and clubs like I am 19 again. And what I mean by that is that I have been going to bars that serve drinks in plastic cups rather than a gorgeous crystal martini glasses. Their fridges are stacked with Bacardi Breezers and not boutique beers. This is just goddamn inappropriate for a man of my age. And the fundamental difference is that when I was a young fella I used to laugh at the seedy old men standing at the bar with their floppy, frosted tipped fringes - now I am that man! It kills me to think that now I am being laughed at, especially without even delivering a pithy one-liner.
My next car will be a convertible, I guarantee you that. I have never been a car person, ever! I only just learnt how to put oil in the one I have. But I am completed fixated on having a convertible by my 40th. And I have no idea why. I just really, really want one. A BMW 1 series, Audi A3 or a Volkswagen Eos (in that order, depending on budget). I reckon I’d even be one of those losers who drives across the Harbour Bridge on an overcast winter’s day with the top down wearing Ferrari aviator shades. You know exactly the man I am talking about. Wonder who will finance me? Is there a fund somewhere for MLC men that I can access???
|I love you!|
I’m loving my personal trainer. Now I could try and kid myself and say that I am getting up at sparrow’s fart a couple of mornings a week so that I can stay fit and healthy and live a better life. NO WAY!!! This would be a blatant lie. I do it because I am incredibly vain and have a massive ego. I wanna be thin and have muscles, a body that looks good in swimmers and shirtless on a podium (such an MLC thing to say!). I want a body that is more Olympic swimmer than marshmallow man. Progress is slow on this front, primarily because of the aforementioned bar-hopping.
I’ve realised that in my mad frenzy to furnish Man Pit with butch, masculine furniture that I’ve actually gone quite porn star. I’ve got a black leather arm chair at its very heart. Now that would never have been part of my décor before my early on-set MLC. I have lots of heavy dark wood furniture with silver accessories. I also have a giant mirror above my bed. There was a practical reason for this – it’s this huge gold ornate mirror that is too heavy to hang but sits beautiful on the ledge behind my bed. But now I am wondering if it was my subliminal MLC that lead me to placing it there. Man Pit has the strong hint of ‘aging porn star’.
And finally, and this will be no surprise to anyone who knows me, I dress far too young for my age. Skinny jeans with a baggy arse do not work on portly middle-aged men with a saggy arse. Low cut V t’shirts exposing grey chest hair should be binned. Purple accessories, such as shoes and watches, are far to try-hard on a 38yo, especially when worn in combination. Hair bands look good on funky 22yo’s, not semi-professionals. St. Murphy, do not buy clothes from the Zara Youth collection! My MLC is preventing me from realising I can not buy the same clothes I did when I was 24, and that at some stage I need to ‘mature’ my wardrobe.
|Hot on him, not so good on me...|
Yes, yes, I admit, you’ve caught me on a bad day. While I do not 100% believe it is in fact a mid-life crisis I am going through, I was more than slightly alarmed when I started thinking about this list. It actually started to make me think there is more truth in it than I originally thought. I am on high alert now for further signs. If I start dating a 21 year old or buy tickets to a Short Stack concert you all have permission to slap me. If you see me wearing gold jewellery, especially an earring, or I ask you to come with me to Home Nightclub you can cull me without question.
Let me assure though I will do my very best not to become a clichéd MLC. I want you laughing at my witty story-telling not my frosted tips.