Ten Years a Gentleman

Ten Years a Gentleman

Various people (I won’t say who exactly but they exist) seem to be concerned about what their ten year old or even nine year old self would think about the life they have lived.  Bruce Willis even starred in a film about this that I can’t recall because, like most of America, I didn’t see it (bam!).  How would the idealistic child react to the adult who has stared down the cold barrel of reality and has been forced to live a life filtered through a prism of expectation mixed with disappointment?  Would this child go back in time to prevent his parents from meeting so he could stop himself from being born and leading such a humdrum existence?  I certainly hope not, as that sounds too close to the plot of It’s a Wonderful Life: the most charming film ever made about attempted suicide and the horrors of settling down with your high-school sweetheart.  It is simply chilling. 

The main point of this rambling is whether my ten year old self would be complacent with the man I’ve become today.  The answer for me and probably everyone who has ever wondered this query is yes.  Here are some reasons why, but not in list form because that would be too easy.  Way too easy.

First off, my ten year old self would be thrilled to see I have survived all the way to twenty two.  The simple fact that I am not dead would cause my younger self to be quite relieved.  Not dying is very important to me and I would have been glad to see I’ve accomplished that essential goal.  I assume all of our younger selves would be happy to see us alive, unless you dreamed about burning out and pulling a Sid Vicious.  To these young tykes I would say not to worry.  Twenty seven is the real age you want to die at to become super famous.  You’ll join Hendrix, Joplin, Morrison, Brian Jones, and Kurt Cobain in the pantheon of the premature greats.  Wait some time and if you’re not dead by then, you’ve made some real mistakes mister.  You’re the only one to blame for that one buddy.

Secondly, I’d just tell my younger self I’ve had sex and he’d be all set and satisfied.  Yes, young Jason, I’ve had sex.  With multiple women, consensually, for free!  And to top that off they’ve been pretty, pretty, pretty good looking (if I don’t say so myself).  I’d stop there to let my ten year old self bask in the fact that I’m quite the “swinging bachelor” and “cool cat”.  I’d go into graphic detail about some encounters and explain that it’s going to work out just fine and that I should keep being me.  I’ll tell him that what he is experiencing now is called pride.  I’ll also explain that what he is physically feeling is called a raging hard-on due to all the graphic sex talk.  I’ll say that his first remembered erection came from his older self.  He’ll (I’ll) have to live with that pride/shame for the rest of his (my) life.

Covering the living and the sex bases are good enough to make my ten year old self happy.  I’ll throw in some added bonuses like saying that I still enjoy Star Wars, but you’ll be disappointed with that Attack of the Clones movie.   To make up for that momentary sadness, I’ll say I have a shit ton more Star Wars action figures and Legos.  The action figures are super movable and Lego Cloud City is awesome.  I’ll then ask what it feels like to have his first two remembered erections come from his older self.  But the truth is I’ll know the answer.  Because he is me and I am he and we are all together.  Goo goo g’joob.