Dancing with myself
What would you say to your younger self? And what would your younger self say to you? Barry Lowe logs his conversation.
In between all those time-wasting quizzes on Facebook such as ‘Which city are you?’, ‘Which TV sitcom of the 1960s are you?’, ‘Which Pubic Lice are you?’, and all those fabulous pictures of the party favourites you intend ingesting that night, followed by the glorious pics of your puke after the party or else the ambulance that took you away to have your stomach pumped, there’s the occasional interesting vox pop question: what would you say to your younger self if you met up today?
And what of the reverse? What would the young me say to the me of today?
In order to answer these shattering philosophical questions I popped into my time machine and went back to 1969, a year that seemed full of possibilities to the youthful moi.
ME (2014): I can’t believe I was ever that thin.
ME (1969): What the fuck happened? You look like you swallowed a half dozen rubber car tyres and forgot to shit them out?
2014: I know that’s not really the old me because I never used four-letter words back then…which reminds me: don’t be such a god-awful moral prig.
1969: How come I ended up with morals as loose as my arsehole?
This was getting us nowhere, so we declared a truce, putting the wrong sort of verbal abuse on hold.
2014: What I’d really like to say to you is that you’re a much better looking young man than I remember. The peroxide blond hair really does highlight your blue eyes and that slim body is pretty cute. Don’t be so self-deprecating, and stop that desperate pursuit of true love and fidelity; it will happen if you just relax. Besides, fidelity is not all it’s cracked up to be. And love is a lot harder than you can possibly imagine at the moment.
1969: I’ve been with the same man for how long?!? And he likes you even though you look like an inflated beach ball with legs?
2014: Don’t be so fussy about who you sleep with. One-night stands can be a fun way to pave the road toward a long-term relationship, apart from being a way to refine technique and become a better lover. You never know if you’ll meet Mr. Right at a gangbang.
1969: Eww! You have facial hair. Gross.
2014: Wait until you see how fashionable tattoos become.
1969: What are those holes in your earlobes? And your eyebrows?
2014: I had a few rings in my ears and eyebrows. And both nipples.
1969: Where are they now?
2014: Hate to tell you this but, in old age we’ll be in and out of hospital and it’s just too time-consuming and expensive to continually remove them and put them back in.
1969: Are you sure you’re really me in the future?
2014: Before our time runs out, I gotta tell you to embrace your inner fetish.
2014: You know how you like spunk…?
1969: Don’t embarrass me.
2014: I’m not allowed to tell you what kills that fetish in the 1980s, just know that there are parties where guys will wank all over your face. It’s called bukkake.
1969: You’re making this up.
2014: And there will be places you can go to share piss. And there’ll be a wonderful parade through Sydney made up of thousands of people just like you.
2014: Oh, and the school captain you had a crush on turns out to be gay, um, camp. Aw, hell, I had so much more to tell you.
1969: Go away, old man. I don’t believe any of it. Next thing you’ll be telling me, two men can get married.