I feel old

A few weeks ago, we went out to dinner with our friend for her birthday. It was a lovely evening, and we went to Coastal Flats to sip on mango martinis (delicious by the way). After dinner, my husband mentioned stopping by a house party that one of his poker buddies was hosting. We figured why not? Always up for meeting new people! We drive up to a neighborhood in the Fairfax area, and pass a house with an assload of KIDS outside. Well, that can’t possibly be it right? Ha. Ha. Ha. It was.

We park, and walk up to the house, smiling at all the young-ins congregating on the front lawn, and head inside looking for the host that my husband is familiar with.

“Ummm babe, I thought you played poker with this guy?”

“I do.”

OKaaaaaaay. I’m picturing a bunch of professional guys at his poker games based on the descriptions he gives me, and not some college guy with black light posters and little robots in a boxing ring on top of the tv. So we wade through the crowd, and find the guy he knows. Introductions are given, and he asks us if we want a drink.

“We have Guinness or NattyBo.”

I’m thinking no champagne or martinis? I’m such a snobby bitch sometimes. I smile and tell him I’ll take a NattyBo as I don’t do well with dark beer. He leads us to a room with not one, but TWO kegerators! That room also has THE stickiest floors I’ve ever seen. My pretty heels don’t like it. But what can I do because there happens to be a flip cup tournament going on! This is the kegerator/flip cup room. I feel ridiculously out of place. I’m sure that J (the birthday girl) and I could be old enough to be mothers to some. Yes, I am serious. I felt like I was at a high school dance. There were drunk BOYS, yes boys and not guys, there who were being drunk college aged boys and leering at me in a super pervy way with their big drunken smiles. I am sure they are thinking MILF or something along those lines about us. I just felt skeevy. Very, very skeevy having these young boys give me the “look”. One of them even walked by and said ‘hey’ while brushing up against my boob. I am sure it was the highlight of his night.

At this point my husband comes over and tells me he had no idea that the crowd was this young. He didn’t realize his Poker Friend was that young, or rather hung out with that young of a crowd. TheBoy said we could leave after finishing our beers which worked out as J. had to get home to her lil’ one who wasn’t feeling well. So we’re getting ready to say our goodbyes and thank yous, when everyone in the house starts to quickly pour inside.

“DUDE! The COPS are HERE!”

Oh my God. Are you serious? I’m at a keg party with young people and the COPS are here? I start to quietly panic (chronic anxiety will do that to you) as I am thinking that I’m probably the oldest person in there at a lovely 32. The cops will come in and card everyone, look at me, and wonder what in the hell I am doing there. OH! You MUST be their supplier! I was picturing the entire scene quietly in my mind when Poker Friend tells us not to worry because the cops show up for ALL his parties. Ya think?

After about 10 minutes, the cops seem to disappear. This is when we make our move to leave. We thank Poker Friend for his hospitality, and head home. Now I have no problems with Poker Friend as his was nothing but nice and hospitable to us. I just felt ridiculously old and out of place at that party. Middle age has officially struck.