I am obsessed with turning sixty. I am obsessed with my outfit for turning sixty. I am obsessed with the fabulous party I am going to have for turning sixty. I am obsessed with people at the party saying, “Oh my God! You don’t look sixty” as I am clearly turning sixty. The only part of the equation I am really at odds with, is you know, turning sixty….
Wait. I take that back. At the time, May 1st, 2022, things felt like they were really coming together. After a couple of painstakingly difficult years; covid, a disgruntled teenager, and dating stories that made The Housewives of Salt Lake City look well adjusted, I was finally entering a bit of a halcyon period.
I had just completed a seven day cleanse ( Code Red for “I can’t look sixty at my party” ) that left me with glowing skin and a reintroduction to my previously ‘snug’ 501’s. If this was sixty, then maybe I was up for this shit. Maybe it really was going to be ok! Plus family and friends were making their way to Los Angeles to celebrate my special day and I knew I would be feted and well loved.
I chose Le Petite Ermitage in West Hollywood for the soiree because it really is one of my favorite places in town, chic, funky and a bit naughty. The rooftop is sublime, all golden light and pink skies until the sun suddenly drops, giving way to a landscape of scattered tea candles and sexy club music.
I also chose Le Petite because of Marco, the world famous Swiss Italian photographer who broke my heart; like really broke my heart. I didn’t know that could happen at fifty nine years old. Trust me. It can. More on that one later.
The evening flowed. I gave a speech honoring every single person there, my best friend from grade seven, to my newest friend, a female rock god I had admired for decades. I mean, nothing really wrong with this picture, right?
In hindsight, I can’ tell now if I got caught up in the moment of turning sixty, that somehow this much deserved destination would be smooth sailing buoyed by my lifetime of wisdom finally kicking in.
That is when I made a huge rookie mistake ( like if I was fifty eight )? I trusted someone and something I had no business trusting in this lifetime or any one following.
When he called, I picked up. I usually don’t. He said, “I have an idea. It involves you and me.”
You’re probably thinking Marco?
Nope. That was later.
This “I have an idea” mofo had been out of my rolodex for years.
For all reasons.
Big.
And.
Small.
Moral of the story.
Never answer the phone on your 60 th Birthday.
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MJx
you're a great, comic writer! I am 67 soon and love the freedom I feel at this stage of life. Lets support each other!