One More Saturday Night

I just noticed my birthday is on a Saturday this year. I'll be 51. Last year, I spent my birthday in the hospital, having my third heart attack. This year, I'm hoping for something a little different.

When you're married, and you have been for a long time, Saturday night tends to lose its specialness. It's not like in your 20s (or your teens) when Saturday night is something you start getting ready for when you wake up Saturday morning. When you're young, you get your hair cut, you get your shoes shined, or whatever it is that your personal sense of style (or the totally unique look you have with 100 of your closest friends) demands.?

When I got older, we may still have gone out to dinner on Saturday, or even more rarely to the movies. But it wasn't like date night. We'd do our thing, then we'd go home. Let the dog out, feed the cat, watch a little tv. Sometimes, we'd have sex, more often not in the later years. But the mystery, the anticipation, the sense that at any minute something totally cool and unexpected might happen goes away. When you're 40 and have two kids and have to teach Sunday School at 9, it's pretty much a lock you aren't going to just decide on a lark to drive to New Orleans.

When I first separated, I told myself that Saturday night was going to be a magical night again. That I was going to hit the bars, theaters, and be the carefree, totally up-for-anything dude I was in my 20s. And I went out the first few weekends I was on my own. I worked my way through the bars and clubs all along Clark and Halsted and I hit the newer scene in Bucktown and Wicker Park. But I quickly discovered something. It's kind of weird and icky to be partying with 20-somethings when you're old.

So I withdrew for a while, and started staying in, or going to safe places. The movie theater is ageless. Anyone can go. I found the clubs like Jazz Showcase and Kingston Mines that played music for grown-ups with a limited tolerance for Rhianna or Lady Gaga. Slowly but surely, I found my footing.

Last birthday, I turned 50. It was the first birthday I had spent on my own in over 20 years. I found a remarkable way to spend it. After breakfast, I had chest pains and wound up in the hospital, having a heart attack. The morphine was kinda cool, but that may just be because it made the garbage truck get off my chest.

So, this year will be my first birthday on my own. I'm taking a mulligan. And I think I'm going to go a little wild. Have a few drinks, dance a little (like nobody's watching), and howl at the moon.

And if I start to get an ache in my chest, I'll just do a few tequila shots and see if it goes away.