The other morning my 38 year-old ass woke up on a friend's sofa.
When you're under 35, crashing on a friend's sofa can feel like a luxury. It's definitely better than the carpet. You don't have to drive home. You're young and you can sleep anywhere. It doesn't matter that the sofa is filthy and you're using one of the small sofa cushions as a head pillow. You're happy to have it, and may even feel empowered by its availability.
As we near our 30's and beyond, waking up on a sofa begins to take on a different connotation. What was once a cool novelty that worked in the schema of things begins to take on a different subtext, and with it a sense of disempowerment. One can start feeling like Matthew McConaughey from Dazed and Confused but unable to pull it off nearly as well.
"Really, this is what it's come to?"
"Yeah, this is exactly where I want my life to be going."
"I'm that old guy on the sofa.......great."
I would venture to say that there is direct correlation between one's age and the degree of feeling disempowered when sleeping on a sofa. Whether we drank a few too many, our marriage is on the rocks, or we're dead ass broke, sleeping on a sofa can only drag down our already fragile self-esteem.
My back hurts, I didn't sleep well, I wanted to wake up in my own home, the light was blazing in through the living room window, crumbs went down my waistband, I have to put on a pair of dirty socks, cat hair is stuck to my face and my mouth tastes like ass. I'm way too old for this.