I am truly embarrassed to admit this transgression. I, the one who so vociferously touts etiquette, who so adamantly rebukes carelessness and poor manners, in fact, has an entire website dedicated to “Life Shoulds” centered around courtesy and propriety, this very same person recently (last Saturday to be exact) committed a huge social faux pas. Ack! It was an immediate “foot in the mouth” moment and I had no escape. Although I do know better, in my defense (one of my favorite phrases commonly used by anyone trying to get out of an uncomfortable situation), should it really be that big of a deal? You tell me.
Here’s what happened. I was at a fun and casual event, sitting with a group of ladies that are somewhere between acquaintances and friends - leaning more towards friends as we have begun making dates outside of group events (a big step, I know). In the midst of our conversation, one of these ladies mentions an old TV show titled “My So Called Life.” Now, even though this was a defining Show for young people in the ‘90s, it was also terribly underrated and therefore not well known or at least openly acknowledged. If you are like me and secretly adored this show, you also identified with the angst themed throughout the series and had a serious crush on bad boy Jordan Catalano (even though he treated Angela ghastly). It was a devastating blow that this show lasted only one season. So you can imagine my excitement when this newish friend mentions my secret obsession from years ago.
It was this same excitement that caused me to forget all propriety and loudly blurt, “You watched ‘My So Called Life’! Wait, how old are you anyway?”… All laughter at the table stops, the poor woman my question was addressed to frowns, and the other two ladies at the table immediately find their cocktail glasses absolutely fascinating. I try some bumbling back peddling such as, “I only thought that we must be very close in age because we both watched the show…I’m just so excited someone else knows the show…you look so young I was surprised you'd heard of it (which is true, by the way)…” So on and so on. None of it is working…until she finally chuckles, a little. Although she did answer generally, the experience reminded me that some people are incredibly sensitive about their age. This is the most basic cardinal rule of etiquette: NEVER ASK A LADY HER AGE. Let’s just say my etiquette card has been temporarily revoked, and rightfully so.
However, while I do understand the rude nature of the “age” question, I am also a bit saddened by the topic. The ladies at the table spanned ages in the forties to early fifties; we are peers. And we are friends albeit new friends. Yet, we are still uncomfortable talking about our age. If we can’t be comfortable with our age among compatriots, we have some serious work to do.
The stigma of a woman’s age is sadly an uphill battle. I'm not exactly sure why however, as so many women I know blossom as they grow older. And blossom in a way so much wiser and more admirable than the often rash and self-centered nature of the average twenty-something (you know what I'm talking about, we've all been there). I think we ourselves need to let it go and maybe if we do, others will too?
So, in an effort to fight the stigma of age head on, for the record…I am forty-two. Well, okay (deep breath, haha)…I’ll be forty-three very, very soon. ;-) Although I may bemoan my growing crows feet, expanding wrinkles and stubborn cellulite, truth be told, I wouldn’t trade any of it to be young again. I like where I am. I hope you do as well.
But! Regardless of my desire to fight the age stigma, my faux pas was real and a good reminder: even in excitement, mind your manners, you can never truly undo a social faux pas.