Boys. Not Men.

I joined Jen and her friends the other night at a Saskatoon country music bar. (Where else would we go?) This was a first. Other than Craven, I am quite sure the bar is not a place we frequent together. I wasn't much of a bar hopper when I was 21 and I am definitely not now that I am 31.

Anyway, other than the reduction in tobacco smoke, not much has changed since I was 21. At this particular bar they still play country music from 1995, so that was fantastic. Oh, and people have cell phones now. So that has changed too. I am sure people had cell phones when I was 19, 20 and 21, but let's think back to 1997 shall we? Do you remember what your phone looked like? Not pretty. It probably didn't fit in your pocket. If you even had one. Other than that, it's a bunch of drunk guys slobbering over girls who spent too much time on themselves getting ready.

So, the other thing I couldn't quite figure out was why people look so ... different? Boys in particular. It wasn't until I was chatting at one point with Laurie (shout out to you hun!), who lives in the age range of 27-ish, when she said, "Y'know, the boys are cute here, but they're all, like, 22."

That's when it occured to me.
The boys are 10 years younger than me. Really, they are ... boys. Not men.
I stayed the same, but THEY got younger.

What I did not realize about aging is that you stay the same on the inside, but everyone else around you gets younger! WTF?! It wasn't until the two cops walked in when I realized THE COPS WERE MY AGE! What kind of Twilight Zone place is this?! Sure, there were some older people there. Like the bartender. But the age range went from 20's to 40's, with not alot of 30's in between.

So, shortly after, I called Dad, he picked us up, and I went back to being surrounded by my family and not by boys by brother's age.