In my 20’s I was ironic. In my 30’s I was self-deprecating. Now that I’m 40 I’m just plain bitter.

You’ve heard of the age of innocence. We are now entering the age of bitterness.  Take issue with the little things: A fight over an in-flight armrest is no longer childish but valid and satisfying. Embrace it!

I’m 40 and bitter!

Why waste time with all this feigned politeness? Unleash the hounds! Taste the acrid fruit of bitterness!

Recently while on a bitterly tedious cross-country flight, I had to get up from my airplane window seat to go to the bathroom. I gestured to the 40+ man next to me to please get up now. He was so afraid I wouldn’t catch his irritation that he overstated his bitterness. It was all very third rate actor stuff. Sighing loudly, rolling his eyes, slamming his hands on the seat every time I made him get up.

What a shame. I wanted to whisper to him, It’s OK! It’s OK to be bitter. I’m bitter too! You don’t have to overplay it.

It’s like this. Being bitter is natural when you’re 40. If only you allow them, these years can be the most carefree and wonderfully exuberant times of bitterness. So many sad souls deny their inner bitter and wait until old age to realize it. I, for one, don’t want to wait until I’m too old and decrepit to enjoy my vinegar years. Life, my friends, is just too short.

Recently, I experienced a magnificent example of a woman displaying a rich and robust sense of bitterness. First, she procured three dogs, then she kept them confined in a small area. Finally she got them to bark day and night. When her neighbor (me) complained, she screamed, “Deal with it! You’re with the real people now!” At first I thought it was a dig, but then I realized, it was code. Like,” Get in. The bitter water is fine”.

Since then both my neighbor and I have gleefully engaged in a bitter competition of garbage can snatching and leaf blowing worthy of the Olympics. On Wednesday her Gardner blows her leaves into my driveway. On Thursday I blow them all back. It’s very satisfying.

This neighbor thinks that I hate her because I once caught her throwing a plastic cup of ice tea on my lawn. I don’t hate her. I admire her. I wish I had thought of that.

No grudge is too small. I’m 40 and bitter!