When I was younger I used to love going over my friend Andrew's house. We would play video games in his basement while our parents sucked back beers and enjoyed the luxury of pretending they didn't have children for a few hours. Toward the end of the night we would come upstairs, sugar-high from countless grape sodas and challenge our tipsy fathers to a wrestling match. To a seven-year old, the matches were epic. But what appeared to be an endless battle between the forces of good and evil realistically was nothing more than fifteen minutes of rolling around on the basement rug until someone got hurt.
And then one day, the matches didn't really matter anymore. Andrew and I started to hang out in his room instead, where we'd talk about guys (me) and girls (him). And it still bothers me that I can't draw a line between our last wrestling match and our subsequent evolution into prepubescent tweens who preferred discussing the merits of Abercrombie and Fitch products to pointless "wrestling" in his damp basement.
Oh growing up... if it were more definitive maybe I wouldn't be so confused all the time.
2 comments:
i don't wanna grow up, cuz baby if i did? i wouldn't be a toys 'r' us kid!
it seems that i am the only person who leaves you comments. why am i so nice?
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