It's a shame really, I've been practicing for years now to deal with the so-called midlife crisis by pretending I'm 40 before I actually was. Now, much to the disdain of my conscious and self-esteem, I've been claiming to be 35.

I mean I'm encouraged when those I tell the truth too think I'm lying about my age.

(And no, they're not just being nice, fuck you, you jealous bastard.)

But vanity is such a nuisance! I'm a late bloomer. I haven't had my share of the sexual adventures that everyone else apparently experienced by the time they were 30.

My only consolation is I've contracted no communicable diseases.

Cold comfort when you're sitting alone at a bar next to a couple in love.