When I was 21…

Ah, yes, the ’70s. The Alan Alda decade when I got in touch with my feminine side. Oh, the ladies loved it! Wearing my emotions on my sleeve, I’d take them to see Yes and David Bowie, where I’d whimper during the guitar solos and weep after the encores. “Let others build relationships, plan families, have babies,” I declared. “Paul McCartney starts at eight and I don’t wanna be late!”

When I was 35…

It was the 1980s and Sonny Crockett ruled. My wardrobe consisted of T-shirts, aqua-green sports jackets and Gucci loafers sans socks. The women loved running their fingers over my two-day stubble as I took them to see The Blasters and Prince. I received cards from friends inviting me to their sons and daughters graduations. I went to see John Mellencamp and Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers, instead. Hey, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.

When I was… Over 40…

The 1990s and the “truth was out there.” Strutting Fox Mulder panache, including three-piece suits and a dry, sullen wit, I took the ladies to see Patty Griffin, Indigo Girls and Guns N’ Roses. “When are you going to marry?” asked my friends. “Why don’t you settle down,” they would say. My answer? “Trust no one. Unless of course, they have good seats for Jewel or Red Hot Chili Peppers.”

And now I’m… Getting up there…

And I look back upon my life and realize that I’ve spent 40 years chasing women and going to concerts by Joe Cocker, Art Garfunkel and Peter Gabriel. And where did it get me? Sitting alone in this one room flat and living on a fixed income while I watch my friends who married and raised families enjoy the autumn of their years. They bounce their grandchildren upon their knees and bask in their fine, prosperous lives. And when I think of all the failed relationships and friendships lost, I know that if I had the chance to do it all over again, that there would be some changes. I definitely would have done some things differently.

For starters, I would have seen more concerts. After all, you only live once.