The Life I Never Lived

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Recently, I decided to venture out on my own to see a friend who plays in a local blues band, called Men in Blues.  It happened to be the Friday before St. Patrick’s Day, and at an Irish Pub, Mac McGees.  It was truly coincidental that this was the evening I chose, largely because it was nearby.

photo 1

The evening started a bit slowly, and the band, 3/5 of their personnel and squeezed into a postage stamp, started playing as the place began to fill for the post-dinner hours.  I enjoyed the music, particularly the blues songs, which were surprisingly few among the cover songs.

photo 2

What was left then, aside from a couple of Sweetwater pale ale’s, was the people watching.  The place became busy, then busier.  And it occurred to me that, among the old people, the middle aged, and the young, that I’m extremely grateful not to be part of the Friday night bar scene.

Maybe I’m too judgmental about people seemingly having a good time, but it wasn’t a gathering of people grouped to enjoy conversation, food and beverage, and tunes.   It was, instead, the seeking of acceptance from the opposite gender, the posturing of affection, and the effusive cries for attention.

photo 3

A phrase that goes around is that “single people dream of being married; married people dream of being single.”   Nah.  Not me.  I’m not old, yet, but I’m mature.

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