There comes that moment in every guy's life, when he faces that undeniable truth. I think for women it's different. There isn't the same impact, the same meaning. But, for guys it can have a deep, lasting effect.
The moment usually comes suddenly, out of no where. It can be at the check out counter..hearing the woman electronically broadcast to the world,
" I need a price check on the New Super Absorbent Tampax, in the blue box, register three, please."
The guy faces his moment with a shy dignity, he shuffles his feet. He may act like he's looking in his wallet for something. He tries not to make eye contact. He just wants to get the hell out of there. As he faces his moment of truth, his wife is either home, or sitting in the car listening to music, unaware and unconcerned of the passing of this male moment. It is the " Losing of your cool."
We all try to pretend it's just a part of growing up, leaving the boy behind, entering adulthood. But, there's something about that moment you always remember. It's like saying good-bye to an old friend. Not that being cool is such a crucial element of your life, but it's something you've worked on for years. You develop a style, a way of walking and talking, of combing your hair. You spend years creating the sexual you, the cool you, and then in an instant..it's over. You know it's over. Most men won't even mention that moment, but they never forget it.
I remember mine, as if it happened yesterday. Before my youngest son was born, I bought a classic 1977 Pontiac Grand Prix, the LJ model. It had beautiful lush cream velour bucket seats, a custom built T top. It was a dark metal fleck brown on the bottom, with a spotless cream colored soft vinyl top. You never see them on the highway, they are so rare. I remember the first day I drove it, a car load of girls passed me on the road and blew their horn and waved. I was cool.
I was in my late thirties, looked young for my age, was tanned and in good shape. I wasn't good enough looking to be a ladies man, besides I loved the woman I married, but I still wanted to keep some of that cool I had before I married.
Then Joey was born.
I expected change, you don't go from being childless to having a son, without some major changes. I could still take him for a stroll, lay him on a blanket in the park, and still maintain that illusive cool image I had created over the years. Women don't get this image thing. It's not like we are consumed by it, but they casually hand you their purse while they try on a dress. I usually kick it under a rack of clothes. A guy standing with a purse outside a dressing room is not cool.
But, on this day, my moment, there was no hiding the days of cool, for me, had come to an end. I was in my beautiful car, I had my beautiful son strapped in the passenger seat. I had pulled up to a light and was just sitting there. A convertible filled with girls in cheerleader outfits pulled up beside me. I gave them a quick cool glance, smiled, and then noticed Joey starting to whine.
Joey had this pacifier. He wouldn't use any other kind. You could only get it at Krogers. It was a huge brown pacifier with a thick rubber circle around it. I can remember having to go to the all night Krogers at three AM, just to get this particular kind. Well, he had dropped it, and it was on the floor. I leaned over, stretched out, grabbed it, but then Joey started to slide out of his seat belt. I tried to push him back into position with one hand, but it wasn't working. So..being the cool guy I am, I put the pacifier in my mouth, and used both hands to secure him in.
This all took perhaps ten seconds. I straightened up, turned up my radio a bit, then looked over at the carload of girls, still beside me. They were looking right at me, laughing like they were listening to Richard Pryor. I started to smile, and that's when I realized "my moment," had arrived. There I was, looking good in my beautiful car, with my beautiful son, beautiful music..and a big old brown pacifier in my mouth....
As I recall, I didn't even take it out. I turned up the radio, stared straight ahead, looked over to check on Joey, and waited for the light to change.
Don't get me wrong. It's not a totally devastating moment in a guy's life, but it's one he generally remembers.
The end of a certain kind of cool, is not like the end of innocence, or the end of being happy. It's not even the end to being cool, it's more like having to throw away your favorite jeans because they no longer fit, or going from a two door, to a station wagon, or being told you're too big for huge brown pacifiers.