By StevieB
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| StevieB circa 1989 |
My workplace is in the heart of Denver's hip and trendy Capital Hill neighborhood. It's a place I know very well. Right out of high school, my first apartment was in this gay, counter-culture area next to the downtown business center.
As I walked down the sidewalk I found myself in front of the first gay bar I ever frightenedly walked into, so many centuries ago. I snickered that it's now a hipster bar.
Out front was a gaggle of young gay kids killing time. I made my way through the gang, just a forty year old in a suit. The conversation I heard could of been from the days that I hung out in front of this stoop. One of having nothing to do, not enough money, and why are there so many old men in suits pushing past them.
I wanted to stop and inform them that they're nothing new. They didn't invent "being cool." I over styled my hair, wore Daisy Dukes, and sported tiny T-shirts to highlight my wash board abs too. And did it better.
Instead I straightened my tie, winked at the smoking hot twenty-one year old checking me out, and thought about the last twenty-two years.
This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.
