When did I get so old?

I met up with one of my close friends at the mall today.  Come on, I’m from New Jersey.  We love our mawls.  And, of course, we also love our big hair.  But, I digress.

As I was leaving the mall, I took the elevator to my car (because that’s how I roll.  Stairs are for sissies).  As I got out on the 3rd floor, I stumbled upon a teenage couple, embracing and making out in the elevator lobby.  A million thoughts went through my mind.

“Get out of my way.”


“You should be home studying.”

“You’re too young for this.”


And then, as I drove away in my mini cooper, I realized two things:  1) I am old and 2) I was jealous.

This is not to say that I wanted to be back in high school, pimply and awkward, standing in a cubicle making out with another pimply-faced high schooler.  No, I want to be my 37-year-old self, embracing a non-pimply faced 30-something.


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