Gone, you say. Not long, then it's over and over. Your fortieth is just around the corner, flapping fists. A crack, just a tiny crack, and the thirties squeeze past you, disappearing like a mangy cat in the dark.
Fourty. That word goes down like mouthwash.
Knows exactly how you feel. Don't you know, it hisses out of you as you free yourself from my embrace like a wrestler. Men, you say in a tone as if you had picked up every single letter from the very bottom, men had a good laugh. Because men – at least the good-looking ones – always stay attractive. And get even more interesting with age. But in a good way, like wine for example. Not like cheese. Or bananas.
Women become invisible in old age?
That is to say: Men are becoming more mature, women are moldy. Sure, getting older is shitty, we die from it. We all! So moaning about aging is not a privilege of women. But look at it this way: At 40 you are still fresh, but a lot wiser. Wise, not gray! Why are one, two, three mottled hair a disaster? For me, they're the price of having any at all. Don't take a face. It's not funny, not funny at all. Your humor died young. You used to run more guys against lanterns, you say. Because of you. Women would become invisible in old age. Aha. For whom? You don't see yourself right now. At least not with the right eyes. With mine, for example. You see no wrinkles, bags under the eyes, droopy eyelids. But see question marks swirling behind your smooth forehead like confetti in a hurricane.
Am i still attractive? Sexy? Lovable?
Yes! Yes! Yes! Are you everything! Still – not for your age, but for me! A sigh. Then you take my compliment in both hands and press until the paint splinters off your nails. That doesn't count, honey. You are my friend after all. Uh That was sitting. No no no. You wouldn't have meant it that way … see my chance, take it. Use your guilty conscience, fire it with my silence in combination with a hanging head. A maneuver that distracts at least for the moment. And luckily it doesn't make you look old for long.
Bjorn Krause thought about a Kawasaki for his 40th. His girlfriend now over a western horse.
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