Hard-Earned Maturity Tempered by Lingering Youth.

It's strange how the passage of time gets revealed as we age. When I was in my twenties I remember hearing older friends and family members discuss aging. I guess I believed that I could understand it in some abstract way. But really I was only fooling myself. Now I'm in my thirties and I'm beginning to get a concrete sense of what they were talking about. I'm just going to assume that I have no clue what living through my forties, fifties, etc. is going to be like. It's mere folly to believe that I can truly empathize (about age-related topics) with my elders. Of course there is an ever-increasing mass of people that I can empathize with based upon having had personal experience of living through my 36 years. Mostly I sit bemused through their observations as they struggle through their youth.

Last night I had a palpable lesson in aging. I still enjoy going out to a bar and having a few drinks and conversations with friends. But the establishments I choose to frequent are substantially different from what I would have chosen in my twenties. I don't want to be around loud music and horny post-adolescents. I prefer mellow lighting and a clean environment. Instead of pounding ten Pabst Blue Ribbons, I sit and sip on a few craft beers (umm... most of the time). I'm generally not interested in meeting anyone new. It's enough to meet up with people I've known for years. I like to develop the bar staff into casual acquaintances that I can chat with while I'm waiting for whomever to show up and join me. It's relaxing and mildly stimulating, and usually all I have the energy for. I absolutely abhor crowded spaces, and I choose not to remain if there is no seating available.

So basically I pick a few spots that I'm comfortable with, and stick to them. Anyway- last night I ran into a younger couple who I have recently befriended. I enjoy their perspectives and always make it a point to join them for awhile whenever I see them. They've been together for a bit over a year, and are very relaxed and open among others. They will often go off by themselves and make the rounds with their respective friends- there is no hint of jealousy or possessiveness between them. So I found myself sitting and chatting with the girlfriend for an extended period of time. She (let's call her E1) is especially amiable and cheery, with an inviting manner. We were sitting next to each other at a table, obviously engaged in conversation. A short, swarthy, and squat bar patron (with some sort of wireless receiver for his cellphone implanted in his ear) stood by the empty table adjacent to us, and pretended to look at a painting on the wall. I noticed him directing leering glances at E1 for some time. She eventually looked over, and he made a gesture with his hand- a "come here" motion with his fingers. E1 is almost excessively courteous and she obliged. I kept an eye on the guy, and watched as she disengaged from his talk, and came back to sit down again. He had ostensibly called her over to get her opinion about the painting.

But after she resumed her place at our table, this cretin remained standing about two feet from us... staring at her with a suggestive smile on his face. He kept making that same motion with his fingers as she tried to ignore his presence. Her expression told me that she was getting increasingly uncomfortable. He glanced at me, the creepy smile lingering, and I glared back at him. After ten more seconds with no change in the situation, I asked him what he wanted. I could see him mouthing words, but I really wasn't trying to hear them. I kept repeating, "What?... What?"- my voice rising and my face growing more angry. Then he clearly said, "Go Fuck Yourself!" I paused for a moment, not breaking eye contact. I could feel the blood rush to my chest, warming me with a cocktail of adrenalin and testosterone. I replied slowly and evenly, "Go... fuck... myself... huh?" He said, "Yeah." I scowled at him, and he walked away backwards trying to maintain eye contact, until he reached a barstool. I tried to relax and maintain self-control. E1 attempted to stimulate a conversation to distract my focus. But all I could think about was hitting him.

The cretin kept looking at me from his place at the bar, and I was about to boil over. At that moment the doorman stepped up, and I pointed out the wannabe predator and said, "If that idiot keeps looking at me, I'm going to take a shot at him." The doorman (who I know and have developed a cordial interaction with) had seen the entire incident, and he went over to resolve the situation. Shortly he returned and told me that the creep wouldn't look at me anymore, and I shouldn't look at him, and everything would be "cool". I directed the doorman's attention back to the cretin, who was still posturing with his own hard stare. That was it. The guy got ushered out of the bar, and I was left to slowly calm down. I thanked the staff, and tried to resume what had been an enjoyable evening.

Now here's the thing... I was most frustrated by the fact that I didn't simply beat that guy to a pulp immediately after he challenged me. I had about an entire foot and 75 pounds on him. He was stupid, drunk and out of shape. But I let him escape without serious consequences. That would have NEVER happened in my twenties. Granted most of my fights back then resulted from my efforts on behalf of my friends... never from some retard's attempt to call me out. I had a difficult time processing yesterday's events. I couldn't believe that a guy that slight dared to start that crap with me. I was amazed that he would be so disrespectful with a woman who could have been MY girlfriend or wife. I definitely do not look like an easy target. But yet it happened. And my adversary walked away unharmed.

I know that many people would assure me that I did the right thing. Deep down I know my decisions were a sign of maturity. I am a married homeowner with a good career that could be ruined if I hurt someone in a bar, or had criminal charges brought against me. It would have been the depth of folly to retaliate physically when there really was no genuine threat posed to myself or a friend. I've reached the age of emotional restraint. I acted methodically, rather than impulsively, and imposed the best possible resolution to the situation. Yet it still bothers me. I had a hard time letting go of my anger, even after it was all over. It's a great illustration of the growth and wisdom that I have left to attain.