Lame Duck!

I recently just turned 35. This just happened 2 wks ago. And I am depressed. For readers that are older than me, I apologise for my eye-rolling, juvenile insecurity with age. I too snide at people complaining about being 29. While I am absolutely happy with my personal life, I am increasing aware of my mortality. And with it, my essence of coolness. Austin Powers would call it mojo. Whatever it is, it seems like falling from a very tall building, seeing your life flash before you, but you fall so slowly that your mind wonders and questions itself. Given the space of time, foolish hope appears. Maybe Superman or Spidey will swoop me up. Maybe I won’t even land. No, I don’t bungee jump, nor sky dive. Not too keen with being at high places. I guess that’s why falling is the only metaphor I could find to explain my irrationality.

My son turned 12 months 2 days ago. And simple maths tells me that I will be in my late 40s by the time he becomes opinionated. These will be when he would develop his own personality, taste in music, girls, etc. And this is where generally Dads will be embarrassing to them. It’s an inevitable descent of status. My own dad was probably lame a bit earlier than this. And damnit, how in the hell can I stop this from happening? It’s like the falling example. Us dads are just sitting ducks waiting for eye-rolls and sighs to start. ‘My Dad’s soooooo lame!!’. I can hear him saying it. Or was it my voice?

DSC_0657

So these thoughts triggered my insecurity with my ‘coolness’. I have never been ‘The cool kid’. But, I take great pride that I could hold my own. I developed my street cred. During my partying days, I never had to line up to go into any clubs. I knew bouncers, promoters. I was the man. I was never and still not GQ material. But, I had ways to get close to girls. I was good with words. In a club scene, where words are never loud enough, I had my dance moves. It helped that I knew half the lyrics to any rap/rnb song that was in rotation in those days. My dorkier friends envied me. My cool friends sees me as an equal.

With my son approaching his 1st bday, last week however, I started to question myself. If I could be the exception to the Lame Dad rule. I seek support from the Boss.

Me: You reckon he would find me lame when he’s older.
Her: Of course he will babe. But it’s not your fault.
Me: What do you mean its not my fault! How can innocence and guilt make me feel better about being lame??
Her: Well, it happens to all of us. You can’t control it.
Me: So u reckon my dance moves will fade? You reckon he won’t think I’m cool cos I can rap?
Her: You can rap????!!

What follows is me doing rap verses for her. I started with Ice Ice Baby, and progressed to Kris Kross, till eventually I was spitting Tupac and Snoop lyrics to her. This delighted the hell outta her. It made her night. She found me cool. And I was left as unconvinced as I were 30 mins before that.

The Boss never knew me when I wore ‘cool’ on my sleeves. She fell for me only 3 years ago. Which by that time, I have already grown out of my baseball caps and sneakers. A mere fuddy duddy that had some jokes.

I just suddenly realise I don’t have an ending to this blog. Must be rusty. I don’t see a solution on how I can escape the notion that I would be lame. Nor am I accepting it. I want so much to be the cool dude in the picture that I attached. Still a cool mysterious guy, sitting back calmly on the wall, while generations after him runs around in front. But that guy didn’t have to rap or dance. Just the surety and coolness of silence.

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