Bummed Out Boomers Meetup Group

Decidedly Not The Bummed Out Boomers Meetup Group

It’s not easy for folks for whom 60 is firmly in the rear view mirror to find places to meet fellow Boomers who share similar perspectives.

Especially when those perspectives are aging angst and disgruntlement.

So I was intrigued when I saw the following notice on Craig's List:

BUMMED OUT BOOMERS MEET UP GROUP

   A social and support group for incessant whiners
  about getting older.

All forms of bad attitudes welcome.

This looked just right for me - an entire roomful of inconsolably aging Boomers who believe that griping about the inevitable will somehow set off a Twilight Zone style reaction rendering them 19 again. 

So I combed my retreating hairs, braved a microsecond glance in the mirror, and set out for the promising Bummed Out Boomers Meetup Group.

"Welcome to our sad little group," said the Boomer at the front door. "I'm Matthew. That'll be $10 but if you're really despondent I'll cut it to $5."

"I'll take the $5." 

I strode through a room packed with nervous hyper hand-wringing Baby Boomers. At the bar I noticed a wrinkled but thoroughly palatable appearing women staring into her drink.

She appeared to be in my natural market, that is, on the far side of 60 and the low side of Cloris Leachman.

"Hi, I couldn't help noticing you looking miserable," I said. "I'm Perry."

"Oh, hello, Perry, I'm Sandra. It sucks being this old, doesn't it."

“Amazing!” I thought. I may have found my soul mate.

"You're right, Sandra," I muttered. "I'm distraught too."

"I used to be so cute," Sandra went on, "I had one of those adorably upturned mouths like a young Meg Ryan."

Sadly, about all that remained in evidence of a young Meg Ryan mouth was teeth.

"I was very cute as well," I replied." I had really long hair and a very creditable left profile."

"No offense, Perry," she sniffed, "but I think I was probably a little cuter. I had perfect dimples."

"Oh yeah? Well I managed significant cuteness without dimples!"

Just like that, Sandra and I were in a full-fledged "Cute-Off!" 

And I was not about to lose.

"The only way you could make that nose cute is to let a lumberjack with a chainsaw loose on it," Sandra snorted.

"Oh yeah?" I fired back, "I'll bet you had beautiful eyes back then, especially when the person you were with had theirs firmly shut!"

Cuteness point mine.

“How did you get those circles under your eyes, Perry?” said Sandra, recovering beautifully. “Did you fall on a couple of Coke bottles?”

Cuteness point Sandra.

“Yeah, probably. And who designed your complexion?  The guy from Papa Johns?”

Sandra’s eyes seemed to mist a bit.

“Oh, Sandra, I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t really mean it.”

“I didn’t mean what I said either,” she replied. “Actually I had fun bantering.”

“Me too."

“Perry, want to get out of here?”

“Sure. On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“We don’t go someplace where there’s a young and lively crowd.”

“Deal! I like Chinese.”

“My favorite too,” I said. “Let’s go. I don’t like this place anyway.” 

Me and Sandra - we may both be Nouveau Old, Formerly Cute but with the "Cute-off" a draw and aging angst at least temporarily at bay, it really didn't matter at all. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~