Generation X vs. Generation RX

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Generation X vs. Generation RX

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Yeah, I was Born in the 70’s—So What About it?!


I think I have officially entered the “generation gap zone”. It is very disturbing when you feel “ancient” in a room full of people you originally don’t think have that many differences than you.

But wait…now something just doesn’t feel right…I begin spinning silently and madly into this real-life “Twilight Zone”…except I’m not the one watching the show…It’s my life!

I am 34. I was born in 1973. I graduated high school in 1991. However, growing up I was the “young” one. The last to turn 16…the last to turn 21. Everyone I hung out with was always older than me and I hated it. I always felt like the “kid” among the group.


So a couple months ago when I became “suddenly single” after 15 years, I had to test the waters and start hanging out with single people. However, in my case, everyone I know who is single is much younger than me. Not that it makes a difference, right? We are all adults here!


It doesn’t seem so bad until you are in a room full of people who were barely out of high school on 9/11 and don’t know where they were when the Challenger exploded. It doesn’t seem so bad until you realize half the room was barely born when the “Thriller” video came out. It doesn’t seem so bad until you realize that they were in elementary school when grunge appeared on the scene. It doesn’t seem so bad until I realize the car I bought out of college (which I still own) is almost 13 years old, which puts them at an age where none of them had hair in their pits or underwear.


Since I don’t look my age, no one noticed I was “old” unless I mentioned it. Which I did. Why? I don’t know. I could have easily blended in with the crowd, but for some reason I felt compelled to tell this girl how old I was. I felt like I was a character out of the movie “Freaky Friday”…and NOT the Lindsay Lohan version…the good old original with Jodie Foster thank you very much.


The reaction?


A ghostly white face, mouth agape with shock…pure shock.


“SHUT UP!” She covers her mouth with her fingers and whispers, “You are 34?!”


The number 34 had suddenly become a shocking and dirty word.


Shrieking in the common “nuevo-valley girl” dialect often heard at malls with an emphasis on the “oh-my-god!”, she grabs my shoulder, looks me right in the eye and says, “You totallllly don’t look like it…don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone!”


What am I? In the closet?


Now that I was officially forgiven for being too old by the young nymph, I pondered her statement, “I won’t tell anyone!” Is that in the same context as someone saying, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you have herpes”?


This is when I realize the same people who I thought were adults just moments before are just in disguise! And guess what..they are actual aliens…those “Generation RXers”! There are no echoes of political, social or even the simplest of hint of intelligent conversation. The only things I could make out were the annoying rap ditties of “Nelly”, blended in with “Go try out the stripper pole we had installed in our garage!”, and “How much is the beer at that bar? I only have $2 and my mom hasn’t paid my cell bill yet.”


The other girls didn’t fare much better. What I thought was the simple-life Midwest suddenly became “Hollywood dress-up time with Paris Hilton”. Bigger girls wearing clothes that were even too small for me walked around like a pink elephant in a room where no one said a word. My eyes just widened and if you were paying attention you would see my expression screaming, “Oh my god (with an emphasis on the “oh-my-god!”)…is this for real?”


Yes, it is for real. You are in the middle of the “Generation Gap Zone”.


Soon everyone found out I was “the old lady”. But by this time, I REALLY started to feel like an old lady…a very annoyed one at that. Next thing I know my new nickname is “antique”; however, I prefer “classic”, maybe even “M.I.L.F.”…but I digress.


People are talking about “mollys” and “rolls”, Adderall, Xanax, Valium, and Vicodin…. Whatever happened to beer? That occasional “reefer madness”? I never heard of anyone snorting Adderall in my life until I met these alien Generation RXers. I think I learned more about drugs from observing and listening than a really juicy episode of “Intervention”. Hey, didn’t Al Gore’s son just get busted with a bunch of Adderalls? Hmmm…it all starts to add up!


I feel the desperate need of an “ally” someone to “back me up”. I need normal adult conversation. Intelligent conversation. The first person I see who is even close to 30 I run to like flies on shit. My expression is nothing less than, “Help me!”


The next thing I know I’m staring at this long bright white tunnel and I hear shouting and noise…


“Back up! And…clear!”


“Michelle? Michelle? You are still with us…hang on!”


“Clear!”


“We’ve got a pulse!”


As I came to I mumbled, “Doctor…oh my god, I thought I was having a bad dream! I dreamed that I was 34 and there were all these alien Generation RXers around me shouting ‘antique’!”


“Umm…Michelle, that wasn’t a dream. You were kicked unconscious by some intoxicated young man who was trying to perfect his moves on the stripper pole.”


And guess what…those boys named that pole move after me….”the antique”.


Hey!? Wait a minute! We talked about this…I thought we decided on “classic”?!

…but I digress.

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