Turning Water Into Wine.
Unless profoundly delusional, a man will know when it’s time to leave the stage. Younger, shrewd executives, faster athletes, edgier, handsome and better dressed men in the club or open plan office. Everywhere you look, you’re yesterday’s man.
This is when a man realizes that he’s no longer the bee’s knees. His moment in the sun has passed. It’s ten past midnight and tomorrow is today. The train has left the station and the dogs are done barking at the cars.
It is at this point that you accept one thing. Even water goes bad. And this, brothers, is the exact time to turn water into wine.
The reason people say we age like fine wine is because we do. Oh, we really do. And we should literally run with this notion, all the way until our last day alive. Life gets better as men age.
A man will live through his reckless twenties, thrilling thirties, fortunate forties and fine fifties. How can you not know better? How can you not turn water into wine? Become a fine vintage?
Embracing traffic rules, mixed fruit jam, sunsets, brown chinos, wildlife documentaries. Life.
Turning water into wine is stepping into your silver fox era. Refusing your barber’s offer to apply Go-Black dye to your beard or head hair.
It’s picking a boring but healthier meal when everyone’s ordering their food for how fancy it will look when they post it online. Being a grown man is to eschew performative behaviour.
Because after many years of trying to figure out whether you need a gym membership or regular walks and healthy diet, you know better.
You do what works for you. Finally.
Fine wine isn’t begging to be promoted at work. It knows its value and actively looks at the next best option. It isn’t baited into debating what is plainly obvious at work, the bar or home.
Fine wine sees Zambia, not the UPND, PF, SP or whichever lot.
When your water turns into wine, you don’t sit around waiting for an apology from people that did you wrong or offended you. You wear your shirt, apply roll-on and have a fritter with tea.
When you’re comfortable in your thick skin, you know you’re not a football fan and won’t be forced to watch it to fit in. Won’t be bothered as the only one drinking ginger tea at a table full of whiskey, tequila shots and ice buckets.
You have finally left the stage. Life is no longer a performance. You’re in sync with your body weight, wardrobe, money, mentality, friendships, relationships. No more games. Just a firm spine for what you will or will not tolerate.
You step away from the trends, times and drama of the younger man. And when a local sex video leaks, you’re not posting “Share please” like some desperate stockbroker struggling with his KPIs.
