THE FUTURE'S THIRTY & DIRTY

Why do women get touchy about their age? It's something i'd never understood. Nothing is more certain than the facts of life; you get old and then you die. We've always known it so why do women get so upset about the inevitable but gradual slide towards senility?
It'd been a while since my girlfriends and I had enjoyed a night out, any kind of night out, let alone a raucous one with dancing and tequila slammers. So, set about rectifying it we hit the bright lights of the city and headed forthwith to the nightclub. 'Over 25's only' said the sign above the door. So, at only a few years past the minimum age requirement and still, I thought, youthful in appearance, I reached for my ID and handed it to the doorman. "You're alright love, i'd be pulling your leg if I asked to see that," came his smirking response. I shuffled along shame-faced behind the midrift showing, mini skirted masses of most certainly under 25's. Ok, so long gone are the days of needing fake ID, forging signatures and memorising birthdates, that's true, but I can still wear a mini skirt with the best of them.

Nevermind, it wasn't anything an illuminous coloured alcopop / glass of wine and some 80's disco beats couldn't solve. Roll on a couple of hours and I was shaking it on the dancefloor when a pubescent boy whispered in my ear. "You're not half bad for one of the old ones." That was it, a strike, 2 admonishments of my age, my descent towards senior citizenship and the inevitable loss of my youthful looks. Vanity. It came to me like a lightning bolt at that very moment. While men tend to get better with age women fear their loss of looks, loss of desirability, loss of personality, life as they'd known it. Ok, well it may not be quite that bad but i'd never been old enough to worry about old age before. Now, I was clearly on the cusp and panicking like all those other middle-aged ladies i'd once derided. Oops my time had come. And indeed, as I thought to myself, lost in thought while this pubescent boy looked on pondering what I would say to him, my time had come. Turning to him, oozing as much sex appeal as I could muster, I said: "How old's old? 29?" "Yeah" he replied "After all it's almost 30."
I smiled leaning forward to whisper in his ear: "Yeah so that makes me going on 30 and very dirty, I'm only just getting started!" I downed my wine, oops, i'd regret that in the morning, turned on my stilettos, my feet were killing me, and headed home for bed, well is was gone midnight!