Shabu Birthday

Josh says our mental faculties start to deteriorate after 28. Now, if only I knew that earlier, I would have a perfectly legitimate reason to justify my lapses at work in the past year.

We both gave a mocking smile and agreed that everything about our physical self goes downhill after the BIG three-zero. For the record, we didn't note this out of fear of aging. After all, our predecessors have all emerged unscathed upon crossing that milestone. This one's just slightly different from the Twenty-One mark which hit NOT LONG AGO. Everyone (assuming you live long enough) goes through this, so I guess it's the universal principle of 'strength in numbers' at work. People we all grow up with grow old together, and we can all laugh and cry or unite in celebration or mourning together. When an experience is shared, it is no longer as scary as it seems when faced alone.

Josh was born exactly 3 weeks after I arrived in this world. By some computational calculation that will never be known to us (some call it fate), we only met each other 18 years later when we both went through the shittiest part of our conscripted enslavement together. His was assigned the number and bed after mine; by default that made us buddies.

Josh married in January this year. He's now enjoying couplehood, though, as I've learned, family plans are not far away. Whenever we are on this topic, he would give a mock resigned expression. It's as though he's yet to leave boyhood and now fatherhood is on the cusp.

We had dinner (my treat for his birthday) this evening. Never mind that he has to sleep at 10 (+) every night and can't stay out late whenever we meet (or I will be talking to someone with open-eye semi-consciousness). Like the meet-ups we've always had, the dinner was never once quiet. Between the first ravenous mouthful of shabu shabu thin sliced beef and the last stomach-exploding morsel of meat, we updated each other of our present life, mentioned about LKY, talked about women and their factory talk, bitched about the annual torturous ritual called IPPT, and ruminated about the inevitability of life stages.

I hope he had a good dinner and not feel apologetic about my picking the tab. Happy Shabu Birthday Josh!