I am not cool.
I mean, I know that now.
I didn’t always used to know that I wasn’t cool. There was a time when I, and many of the guys I hung out with, thought we were the coolest thing to happen to the world since…well since ever.
Every generation goes through a period of time when it thinks it is the coolest generation that ever generated.
But then another generation comes along and the formerly coolest generation has to march off and start eating dinner at 4 in the afternoon.
Eventually the formerly coolest generation even becomes a topic of humor for the now cool generation.
My generation is at that point.
I have noticed that guys my age, guys who used to be way cool, are now considered by the now cool generation to be way humorous.
And not in a good way.
I’m a dad. Specifically, I’m an old dad and old dads now are apparently a type. A typed to be mocked. A type to be laughed at.
And not in a good way.
But that’s OK. It’s the circle of cool.
The only problem with being a type to be mocked is some people, not content to just mock me, try to change me.
And by “some people” I, of course, mean my wife and our 22-year-old daughter Emma.
For some reason my wife and Emma think it’s their responsibility to change things about me. Things like my wardrobe.
Apparently, my wife and Emma think I dress to much like a dad.
Me: But I am a dad.
Wife and Emma: Doesn’t matter. You have to change. You dress like a dork.
Me: I see.
But I really don’t see. I don’t think I dress like a dork. I think I dress like a cool guy.
But all guys think they dress like cool guys. The reason guys think that is because they like to dress the same way they dressed when they really were cool guys.
This, of course, is a mistake.
Or so I’ve been told.
A couple of years ago, my wife and Emma signed me up to some service which picks out clothes for me and every few months sends them to me.
It’s was Emma’s idea to set me up with the service and she was the one who filled out the information so the people who pick out the clothes would know what kind of clothes to send to me.
I suspect when Emma filled out the information, she mainly just checked a box which said “The exact opposite of what he wears now.”
So, every few months I get a box of clothes which I am then expected to open and show to my wife and Emma.
If my wife and Emma like the clothing item I put it in my closet. If they don’t I send it back.
“But Mike”, some of you are thinking, “Why don’t you express your clothing opinion?”
To those of you who are thinking about that there is a perfectly good reason why I don’t express my clothing opinion.
I don’t care.
See, I know no matter what clothing item I keep, in a few years that item will no longer be cool. But by that time I will have worn the clothing item long enough for me to think it is cool. And eventually my wife and Emma will tell me I can’t wear it and instead I have to wear something that I used to wear long before I got the clothing item I can no longer wear.
I hope that makes sense to you because it does to me.
Last week I received a box of clothes from the service and in that box was a pair of shoes which I hated and my wife and Emma loved.
“You are definitely wearing them,” my wife and Emma said.
I’m not so sure. See, the shoes sent to me are sort of a mixture of dress and tennis shoes. I’ve seen the shoes on TV. The former football players and coaches who drone on and on during NFL pregame and half time shows wear them.
I think the shoes look dorky.
The shoes are ankle length. The top of the shoes are black and look like dress shoes. However the bottoms of the shoes are white and look like tennis shoes.
See, I’m sort of a “make up your mind” kind of guy when it comes to clothes. If you want to wear dress shoes, wear dress shoes. If you want to wear tennis shoes, wear tennis shoes.
It’s the same way I feel when I see some guy wearing shorts and a sport coat.
My wife and Emma tell me I can wear my new shoes with casual clothes or with dressier clothes.
I don’t see how that’s possible.
The only bright spot in all of this is, because of the whole Trump virus thing, I really don’t have anywhere to go and probably won’t for a long time.
And, who knows, by then my new cool shoes will no longer be cool.
And I will want to wear them.