amenopausalmom.com

Okay, so last night my girlfriends and I, all in our upper thirties, gathered together to watch the season finale of the Bachelorette.

We were stoked. Sure it would be Jason, we were glued to our seats.

Then our friend revealed her thoughts. “She didn’t pick Jeremy. Jeremy and Jason are so much alike as far as being settled and where they are in life. No way will she pick Jason.”

Oh, of course she will, we said. She had to. Jesse is, well, he seems kind of young, right?

Maybe not so settled? He’s a pro snowboarder, not that there is anything wrong with that. But isn’t he the kind of guy you date? Isn’t Jason the kind of guy you marry?

Besides, her family loved Jason.

Yes, yes, it will definitely be . . .

Jesse?

Wow, I could have fallen out of my chair.

Oh wait, I did.

After I cursed a few times.

Jesse’s cute, he is, and I’m sure he is a great guy.

But still . . .

Then I realized the issue. Jason is older. Like me. Not as old as me. You know, hitting male menopause old, hair falling out old, hormones raging old.

But he is older. Has a kid. An ex wife.

Jesse, however, is young like her. He hasn’t been through the whole marriage and children process. He’s, well, fresh.

He can stay up late at night. He can go out and be adventurous. He doesn’t have a young one at home to think about, to consider.

Things change when you get married and have kids.

That I was confused and, well, a bit upset with her choice wasn’t a reflection on what a bad picker she was.

Instead, it was a reflection on my non-youthful age.

You see, once you hit old you stop thinking that the crazy carefree guys are attractive and instead you look more at the mature ones. The ones who will be there when the kid pukes all over your shirt in the middle of the night. The ones who have twenty bucks in their pockets at all times.

The ones who don’t say Rad in everyday conversation.

While Jason appealed to the girls at our table who were screaming at the television and trying hard not to spill our red wine as we shook our fists at the screen, I’m going to venture to guess that the younger girls around America, those in their twenties, totally understood and were shooting their fists up in the air in a congratulatory THANK HEAVENS wave when Deanne told Jason to get up off of his knee. (Interject here: Poor, poor guy).