The Schalter

Written by: Scott Mason

I’m 32. Actually, to be fair, I’m a month away from being 33. I’m recently married, with a baby on the way, and have my own home. I’ve got a specific bank account to handle my monthly bills, including having the likes of TV licence, council tax, etc all on direct debits so I don’t even have to worry about them. I’m holding down a very good job, and now even count cooking, gardening and growing vegetables amongst my hobbies.

All in all, that sounds very sensible and normal and, well, grown up.

And therein lies the problem, and the question I’ve been asking myself recently:

Should I finally grow up and put away childish things?

I’ve always seemed to try to keep one foot in my youth, whether it’s my music, clothes, or even when I manage to sneak a weekend away with the boys, we will always end up in the same rock club in Manchester I frequented when I was 20, and at 1am still carry out the same ridiculous dance moves we did over a decade ago, much to the bemusement of the surrounding emo kids, who must surely think we’re undercover police gone wrong.

Outside of my scruffy, almost childlike attitude to personal appearance, my main problem (despite the sensible bank account) is my grasp on money matters. Case in point being the recent wedding. We received a great deal of monetary/voucher gifts, and while my wife and I sensibly discuss items such as breadmakers, dishwashers, cutlery sets, linens etc., when she leaves the room I’m on the web looking at 40″ HD plasma TVs, and price checking PS3s and Wiis.

If it’s not bad enough that I want to fritter away gift money on such childish things, I’ve got over 2k in my savings from a recent share payout and, in my mind, I’ve already spent it on a very nice looking home cinema system that would leave with me just enough change to buy a can of cheap lager to watch it with.

What makes this sadder is the fact that our flat is ridiculously small. You couldn’t get a 40″ TV in there if you wanted to, unless you removed the sofa and fashioned the box it comes in into some form of E-Z-chair.

All of that aside, I’d say the main thing stopping me from being a fully formed adult is the Internet. Sites like Play.com and CD-Wow make it so easy to buy a load of DVDs without thinking twice about it. It’s only when they’re delivered and I’m getting an earful about not having any space that my brain clicks into gear and I five days belatedly think, “Yeah, best not click on ‘Go To Basket’ right now.”

But those sites aside, the main, main problem is that beast they call eBay. The amount of childish crap on sale on there is a haven for morons like me, and you know it’s all being sold by morons like me who are having their hand forced by their partners. Japanese film posters of Coen brothers movies? Check! Replica tat from Goodfellas? Check! Film cells for God’s sakes, film cells? Double-check, and mate.

Do you know what I saw on there the other day?

A home bar.

Yup, the kind that Delboy or Pat from Eastenders would buy. The kind only owned by TV idiots and the mentally challenged.

All I could think was, “How have I lived this long without this in my house?”

I looked further. There are hundreds of them. Hundreds of bars being sold by hundreds of idiots who bought them without telling their wives.

I’m watching several of them as we speak. You remember how big I said my flat is, right? I’m watching one that’s five metres long. There are no rooms in my flat that could accommodate that, and yet there it is, in my watch list.

The one thing that is constantly in the back of my mind when I’m doing stuff like this is thoughts of my parents. Now obviously it was a different generation, and the majority of couples were getting married and having kids a lot earlier, but the thought is always there: can I remember my parents acting like this at my age? When my dad was 33, I would have been around ten. I wonder if he was doing equally stupid things. That said, in our dining room we did have an American slate pool table (a Christmas present to us apparently) and an old bar in the corner… maybe it’s genetic?

I have to say that the one saving grace of growing up is getting married, though. I can say with my hand on my heart that if I was still single, I’d be sitting in one of the stupidest bachelor pads you’ve ever seen. It would have all the latest mod cons, a bar where the kitchen should be, a TV where the sofa should be, and numerous signed photos of James Gandolfini and Darth Vader where photos of friends and family would be.

I wouldn’t be there to enjoy it though, as I would’ve either starved to death after forgetting to buy food for two weeks, or been overcome from the stench of my clothes and drowned in a pool of my own sick.

Anyway, that’s enough chitter-chatter. I’m bidding on an original Millennium Falcon and it finishes soon.

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This post is tagged Gadgets, Gizmos, Men, Stuff