Promising Evening Of Friends In Their 40's

It was a promising evening, we were getting together, four fun (used to be) intelligent (I think), cultured (self proclaimed) people with their good food and good wine and good chats (normally good) and great weather. The promise of a good evening was not fulfilled, so what went wrong. What went wrong was our stories, what I call mid forties stories of people in this part of the world, maybe so in other parts of the world too, but then again I would not know, I have not experienced my mid forties anywhere else.

After saying our hellos and how are you's and checking on each others medical conditions, since one was worried she has high blood pressure and someone was asking about the level of my triglycerides, the discussions were hilariously interesting, spanning the ultra intriguing world of maids, or lack of, that are absolutely necessary for our livelihood, not to mention the livelihood of ailing mothers with bad hips. We passed through the wondrous world of Parkinson's and I discovered that it is not always all about tremors. We discussed the joys of a daughter playing the maid to a mother that tends to forget that the maid/daughter is only playing that role and not actually being paid for it. I tried being witty and mentioned that she, in fact, (the daughter) has been paid in advance (school tuition, clothing, housing etc...), it was not very funny. I also got a very colorful picture of life with a little purse that collects your urine when you no longer know that it is time to pee pee. We peppered the conversation with small talk about back pains, lingering migraines of a friend and a few minor aches here and there. 

At one point I wanted to stand up and scream, SHUUUUUUUTTTTT UUUUUUUPPPPP, but it was too late since it was time to leave. I left with an after taste that no wine can remove, an after taste that remained and lingered long after the dinner, an after taste that battled with and won over the heavy cilantro and garlic that garnished the chicken. An after taste that kept me up all night and riddled my heart the following day.

I do not want to know what happens to us when we age, i do not want a glimpse of illnesses awaiting in the darkness of later years. I do not want to live 25 years ahead of my time, especially that those coming 25 years will not be my 30's or 40's, they will be my sixties. I really really want to be surprised with them. I really really do not want to know what is coming in this instance, a rare case where my curiosity will not get the best of me. A rare case where I am not, absolutely not, inquisitive.

I guess I should start befriending Teenagers !