It was only when the DJ yelled “Happyyyyyyyy Biiiiiiiirthdayyyyyyyy Renaaaaaaaat” that I realised I was getting old, even though he was one day too early, but hey, that’s how things go when your life is organized by personal assistants. I was thinking about that life, the past and the future while people were kissing and hugging me and I hardly noticed Fergie from the B.E.P. jumping out of the birthday cake, only wearing tiny bikini’s. The last thing I remember was the fact that I was rather drunk.
Next day I woke up too early - 8 o’clock isn’t a great time to wake up after your birthday party but someone was knocking on the door. Oh my god, 8 o’clock. I pushed Fergie over, put on my pyjama’s and opened the door. A man in black suit with a briefcase was standing in the doorway.
“Hello Renaat, I’m the team manager of your lifestyle team”.
Oh great, the manager of my lifestyle team. Completely forgotten about those guys. I hired them some years ago to advise me on, uhm, … lifestyle. It saved me hours of reading mags and books about how I should behave in this world to be cool and stuff. I rented some fancy office for them at the borders of Lake Geneva in Montreux, costed me a lot of money but hey, they adviced me on clothing, clubbing and how I should waste my time. I had no idea I still was paying their wages.
“Ok Renaat, you turn *censored* tomorrow, we had a meeting with the team and we decided your style of life isn’t compatible with your age anymore.
“Oh really ?”. I waved goodbye to Fergie, asking her to return my suit one day. I couldn’t let her go in those tiny bikini’s, you know.
“Yes. You’re some fancy manager whose life is organized by personal assistants, you got a wife and family, you’re boring and on top of this, you’re happy. HAPPY ! This is so wrong. My team and I figured out your behavior is totally unacceptable.”
Hmm, this was getting interesting. I was wondering what he was up to.
“So I guess you’re wondering what I am up to, right. Well, after a long meeting we decided you should have a … midlife crisis.”
“Gosh, a midlife crisis. Me ? How cute !”
“This is not a joke, Renaat. Now is the time to have one. You can’t wait another 10 years, you’ll be too old then. Besides, it has to be now, we already … brought … uhm …”
He pointed at the door.
“Close your eyes.”
“Hell no!”
“Ok ok, come outside, I’ll show you.”
We went outside. There was a fancy black Porsche in front of the house.
“There. A fancy black Porsche. We were in dubio about a bike or a sportscar. The sportscar is a bit more safe for a midlife man like you.”
“William (I remembered his name), I already have a black Porsche. And a red Ferrari Enzo. You should know that. There’s nothing midlife crisis about those cars. I use those to go to the office and to participate in illegal street races.”
William was confused. He was failing in his job and knew it. But he didn’t give up.
A limo pulled over. The driver opened the door and an oriental lady stepped out of the car. She had black hair, a cute nose and gosh, she was drop dead gorgeous. She smiled at me and I smiled back, not knowing what this was about.
“We think you should have an affair, Renaat”. Will looked at me in a strange way. “An affair is so midlife crisis. And this girl is perfect : she’s beautiful, young and famous. What else do you want ?”
I looked at her and she smiled again …
“Hi”
“Hey … how are you ?”
“Not bad, tx and u”
Wait a minute. I was here before. I turned to William and pulled my gun.
“Ok Will, gimme the script.”
William gasped … “What script ?”
I grabbed his briefcase and ran inside the house and locked the door. I opened the case and there it was, the script they made up for my midlife crisis. I started reading.
First thing that was going to happen, I was going to be friends with this black-haired goddess. We would spend time together, go out together, shopping, clubbing, go to expositions, I’d show her Van Gogh, Escher, Dali, we would read Hemingway and Coelho together, she’d tell me about her country and the great cities she’d been to and then, BAM, I would fall madly in love with her.
I skipped to the next chapter. We’d team up, she would be mine but then the huge age difference would start killing me. I’d lose sleep, thinking about her all the time. Every day we started fighting, every night we fell in love. No one else could make me sadder but no one else could lift me high above.
In the last chapter we’d already broken up and she’d be gone to her country far away. The script described me sitting in the sofa, being all emo and calculating the time difference all the time and checking the weather forecasts over there. The only thing left of her would be a one-liner-e-mail of her every two or three months. In the end I would understand I’d been in love with a fairytale.
Oh my god, what a mess. This was unbelievable! I grabbed my gun and ran outside.
“William! What the hell you think you’re doing ????”
“But it’s a midlife crisis, Renaat. It’s supposed to go that way. You don’t expect to escape happily, do you ?”
“Ok, you’ve got 10 seconds, mister.” I pointed the gun at him. He ran away – I’ve never seen him again.
The girl was still there …
“Oh my god, I hope I didn’t offend you, did I”
“Hmm, only a bit, Ren. But hey, I dreamed last night I was standing next to you, holding a huge gun and you were laying in a pool of blood so I’m quite confident about the situation.”
She made me laugh, she was big fun.
“Ok, I’ll make it up. There’s this nice exposition in Liège, all Van Gogh paintings. I love Van Gogh and they even got Starry Night over there. Wanna come with me ?”
She smiled at me and nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”
I grabbed her hand and we walked away …
