Male, pale and stale.
When I first heard that expression I thought wow, that’s a good sledge. Male, pale and stale — I beg your pardon, I resemble that remark.
That’s a real put-down, isn’t it? I was impressed and horrified all at the same time and desperately trying to distance myself from the phrase.
Me? No way! I’m not part of a world that is dominated by older, predominantly white men who tend to find themselves in positions of power.
After all, I’d just finished reading that things are going very well for women. They enjoy better health and a longer life span. Apparently, the Aussie male can only look forward to an average of 67 healthy years, while women enjoy 70 years of “full health”.
And I was stunned to read that a 2012 historical survey of 81 Korean eunuchs found they lived up to 19 years longer than uncastrated men. (Who does these surveys?!)
I then was told about IMS, or Irritable Man Syndrome. A clever acronym directed at me by my kids, even though I seriously cannot remember the last time I was angry.
It’s the modern version of so-called Grumpy Old Man syndrome, which scientists discovered peaks when men hit 70.
Allegedly that’s the age men become fully aware of their own mortality as they see friends and loved ones drop off the perch. The senior gents might also be battling health problems and may feel depressed about the life goals they failed to achieve.
Chemistry also has something to do with it, as testosterone levels plummet to half of that of levels seen in younger men.
Sounds great doesn’t it, hence my writing about it. Have some sympathy and empathy, my friends. If you find a loved one getting stroppy with cyclists, or whinging about how young the cops look (or the television presenters) and complaining about the “young people of today”, please have patience.
Suggest that a trip to the garage or shed might be in order, or those wonderful men’s sheds that have sprung up everywhere. Try to understand what is happening and then force the old boy out of the house, plus ensure he exercises and has hobbies.
Make sure he has a laugh too. But even affectionate names, like old misery-guts, miserable old git and bloody whiner, are not helpful … and please, no chat about male menopause.
My favourite solution though (which won’t surprise any of you) is to get a dog for your ageing man. If you can manage it and have the space, energy and strength, get a King Charles Cavalier, crossed with a French Bulldog if possible.
With a dog you’re never just a stale, grumpy old man. When you come through the front door, even if you’ve just ducked out the front to take the bins out, you’ll return to your home like General Douglas MacArthur returning to the Philippines in WWII. In the dog’s eyes you can stride in like a conquering hero, because that’s how this wonderful beast views you.
You’ll get such a greeting from the dog that you’ll feel like delivering that famous “I have returned” speech.
You could have just been checking the mail and the joy the dog shows is incredible. They delight in just seeing you. You could have the personality trait called dark empathy (apparently the worst trait of all) and they still love you. Their loyalty is unquestionable.
And what about the car rides? It’s as if you’re going on some unbelievable adventure, like you’re off to swim with whale sharks in Ningaloo or something and really, you’re only going for milk. They couldn’t care less. They are going somewhere with you and they’re loving it.
Doing the maths, they get only one day for every week that you’re alive. And don’t they make every post a winner? Don’t they make every day count? It’s like some supreme being has factored in their mortality and they know about it.
They are some of the greatest creatures that live amongst us. You’re probably thinking I’m overcooking the whole situation, but our new mutt Frankie is exactly as I just described.
When I look at my dog it’s a reminder that they live every moment and make very day count. It’s the perfect antidote to Grumpy Old Man syndrome.
