If someone asks your age don’t tell them. Their reaction might surprise you…
A few years ago, a taxi driver (I’d never met before), asked my age. When I didn’t tell him, he grew more and more determined to find out. Then, when he couldn’t find out, he became disgruntled. He even asked me how old my mother was.
“If I told you, she would kill me.” I said, grinning beneath my pandemic mask.
He squinted in his rear view mirror, trying to work me out. “Yeah, well, if I knew how old your mum is, then it would give me an idea.”
“Why do you need to know?” I asked.
He didn’t really know; other than that, he wanted to know.
My decision not to tell people my age started many years ago, when a newspaper reporter interviewing me suddenly said, “How old are you?” I asked the reporter why he needed to know, and he found himself stumped for an answer. The truth was, it wasn’t relevant to the piece he was writing.
Usually people don’t ask my age, and not giving the reporter my age was a spur-of-the moment decision. I simply couldn’t understand why he asked. The fact that he couldn’t give a reason reaffirmed that my decision was the right one.
The truth is, I didn’t care about giving my age; what mattered was why he thought it necessary to ask for it.
Fast forward several years, and a friend complained that whenever she appeared in the local press, they always stated her age. I replied that she must have given it to the reporter, and if she didn’t want to see it continuously in print, not to tell them unless they could explain the relevance. Her age doesn’t appear in print anymore.
Why, as a society, are we so hung up on how old people are?
My best friend says she likes to know how old people are so she can compare her looks to people of the same age. Once she told me this, I found myself doing the same, until I realised it was a crazy thing to do. We are all unique in our ageing process, and thanks to genetics and varying opportunities for self-care, some will be more fortunate than others.
So here we are, judging people by their age. It has to stop. We are becoming an ageless society, so to judge people by how old they are seems ridiculous to me. Some young people are old before their time, while there are people in their nineties doing skydives. People are working at all ages, and so long as my health allows, I will go on working until I drop.
My mother said that if she was run over by a bus or some such mishap, not to let the local press state, “Local grandma aged XX was run over by a bus.’ “I don’t want to be defined by my age,” she said, and I agree. Why does it matter what age someone is when they meet their maker? It might matter to their family, but not the wider world.
How to avoid the question
A friend is an ex-serviceman. Given his past, I am sure he has interrogated many people. Not long after I first met him (and after a few drinks), he looked me straight in the eye and said, “How old are you?”
I laughed and said I couldn’t see why he needed to know. Taken aback, he took a guess. I smiled enigmatically, then told him that if that’s what he thought, then fine. He has never asked me again. If he thought it important to know, I’m sure he would have found a way to get the answer, but I guess he realised there was no need for him to know.
We are all people. We are born, we grow up, and we age. It’s a fact of life. To use a well-coined phrase, ‘Age does not define us’, and it’s true. The only people who need to know our age are from the medical or legal professions.
Even my boyfriend doesn’t know my age. In the three years we have been together, it has probably only come up three times: during a hospital visit, at an undertaker, and when a policeman stopped me for having a faulty back light. Funnily enough, the cop didn’t even blink when my boyfriend jumped out of the car the moment he asked me. The undertaker thought it hilarious that he shot out of the room when she asked. One day he will find out, but he really couldn’t care less. His mother, on the other hand, tries subtle ways to find out that are ever more amusing. A while ago, she asked if I had any big birthdays coming up. Again, I threw out the enigmatic smile and simply said “no”. Finding that she couldn’t bring herself to question me further, she gave up. Every now and then, she tries a new way to find out that doesn’t involve asking directly.
It used to be considered rude to ask a lady her age!
You don’t need to be rude when declining to give your age. Be lighthearted; simply explain that you don’t see why it’s relevant. If someone comes up with a good reason to know, then fine, no problem. But if they are simply being nosy, then it’s your right to refuse.
When I meet people, I want them to think about who I am, what I do, and if I am interesting, not the number of years I have been on the planet. We can find out what we have in common in so many other ways.
Be warned.
If you decide not to tell people your age, be warned that they will try to find clues in the TV programmes you watched as a child, celebrities who were popular when you were a child or teen, and events you may have lived through. To get through this without actually lying, either learn to furrow your brow and look confused or perfect an enigmatic smile.
Take it from me; it can be very amusing to see how people react when you don’t give your age. You can wiggle out of it in so many ways. Try it and see how you get on.
When I’m not writing articles, I write short stories. The Apartment Block series of short stories is available to view here on Medium. A few others are available via Amazon. Please take a look; hopefully, they will entertain and amuse you.
The Apartment Block Series
Other short stories by Petra Kidd
Other short stories by Petra Kidd
