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My Husbandís Midlife Crisis
My husband is having a midlife crisis and itís not fair! I told him three years ago when I had my (extremely premature) midlife crisis, we should synchronize our watches and get both of them over at the same time. But would he listen? Of course not. That violates Husband Rule #17: "Only listen when not listening means youíll be deprived of either food or sex."

The worst part about my spouseís midlife crisis is that although heís thirty-five, he looks twenty-something. Not in the "I look twenty-something from the back, at night, when itís really foggy" kind of way, either. He can easily pass for a college student in the broad daylight, from the front! Perhaps itís that forty-pound backpack he carries instead of a brief case. Or maybe itís the fact that he rides a skateboard to work.

I had always heard that being married to a younger man makes you look hip and cool (assuming hip and cool are still good things.) But being married to someone who looks way younger than his age is another story altogether. Iíll give you a perfect example. Last year, we decided to refinance our house to pay for some home improvements. The mortgage broker came by our house to deliver some paperwork while I was out. The next day when I spoke with the agent on the phone he said, and I swear this is true, "Your son was very helpful." I went right over there and slapped him. Okay, I didnít, but only because the car wouldnít start.

And about a week ago, when my husband asked a woman, no, make that GIRL, in his acting class (Iíll get to that part in a minute) how old she thought he was, she said twenty-three! Thatís the most frustrating part for me. You see, he was twenty-three when I met him, and itís maddening to think that in twelve years he hasnít aged a bit and I look at least seven months older than I did then! Okay, would you believe seventeen months and seventeen percent body fat older?

His midlife crisis started the day he went to a liquor store and they didnít card him. Or, as he put it, THEY DIDNíT CARD HIM!

"Calm down, honey," I said softly, trying desperately to hide the joy I was feeling that finally my husband looked old enough to pass as an adult.

"You donít understand!," he whimpered. "They always card me!"

"Maybe the clerk forgot to card everybody today," I offered by way of a weak excuse.

"Do you think that might be it?," he asked, desperate to cling onto anything at this point.

I thought it would pass, but it didnít. The next day, he brought me a list of all the things that prove heís not as young as heíd been passing himself of as for the past decade. "#1. Itís been two years since anyone has asked me whom I have for homeroom. #2. A guy in the grocery store called me "Sir" on April 16 at 2:47 p.m. PST. #3. When I go trick-or-treating, people give me funny looks..."

Itís been downhill ever since. Every day heíd have some new idea for how he could look and feel younger. "Maybe some baggy pants," he suggested until I told him those were so 1999. "How about a poster of Britney Spears on the bedroom wall?," he asked. Yeah, right, thatíll happen just as soon as Rob Lowe invites me over to his house to talk politics. "I could invite a bunch of college kids over and jam!" Assuming todayís kids are into Simon & Garfunkel and Yanni. I suggested he get his tongue pierced. Only because I knew that even in the midst of a midlife crisis, my husband would never do anything that involved pain.

Anyway, thatís when he decided to take the acting class at our local university. Now he can talk about doing homework and how his teacher is so mean to him. Personally, I think he's taking the class so he can learn how to act younger than his age. Or, at least, the next time the liquor store clerk doesnít card him, he can act like heís gotten away with something.
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