First and foremost, you are of middle-age, but you passed the actual threshold and are more than halfway to dead.
Knowing you’ve got less time left on Earth than you’ve already had will simultaneously be the most terrifying and freeing thought that passes through your brain, daily.
The rumor that the hangovers are that much worse is bullshit. You’ve stopped drinking crappy booze and staying out past 11.
And the old “liquor before beer/beer before liquor” chestnut? Also bullshit. At this age, you should know by now where your body’s gonna take you.
People will expect you to enjoy drinking wine. If you don’t, don't. Skip it. Those tannin-soaked hangovers actually will do you in. Go straight to the “brown stuff” phase of life.
Food. Eat whatever you want.
Food. Just you know, like less of it?
Sex. Expect less of it.
You will have less desire and it will be an acceptable trade-off, because you should, by now, be a crafty veteran, not a hopped-up rookie. Expect more from your sex life. Making it count is really the point here.
Because it will be at least another four to five days before everyone involved is caught up on sleep.
Sleep. Expect more of it.
You will be told that one of the keys to a successful relationship is to “spice it up” in the bedroom. Nah. Just keep doing it. Anybody making sex tapes or having threesomes in their forties is lowering your property value as we speak.
Make sure to keep getting after it, though. Those wandering eyes lock in on a lot more targets, younger adventurous targets who know nothing of middle school parenting bloat, right about now.
Yes, you need to get a physical. Tomorrow.
It’s your golden age of physicals. Too old for the doctor to cup the ole’ bells, too young for a digit in the roaster. Don’t put it off, it’s great. Twenty minutes in-and-out and you can find out if your liver is healthy and can withstand another decade before your next physical.
Pick-up basketball? Hell, yes.
Just don’t go making big go-getter plans for the following morning.
Advil, always.
There will be almost no movies aimed at former cinephiles in their forties because we are no longer the coveted whatever demographic with the limited attention span and the bitcoins, or whatnot. Take solace in Netflix. The small screen loves us. Curl up with fellow quadragenarians Cookie Lyon, Leslie Knope, Louie & Pamela, Avon & Stringer, and Tyrion Lannister. Enjoy the multiplex, children.
Unfortunately, you will also come to realize that your fellow quadragenarians are way too into Star Wars and all of its Star Warsy-ness. Enough with the Yoda boners, people. Let’s set an example for the kids and get beyond the bleep-bleep-borp-borp and the monkey noises. (The new Star Wars looks fine.)
It’s long been said that your forties is when you start to become a conservative. This is true if you already lean asshole.
You’ll care less what people think about you, which is great.
People will also be thinking a lot less about you, which sucks.
There will be close friends within a ten-mile radius you will see once. Throughout your forties.
Unless of course, you want to dress up like you’re in the Tour de France at dawn on a Saturday, or lift cast iron balls like some piratical apprentice, or slog through a mud race like a common pig. Everybody seems to make time for that. Just check their Instagram, they’ll let you know.
You can dress however you want. However, you should not want it to be like your weed dealer.
Cocaine? Tough call. You have the scratch to buy the good hedge fund stuff, for one night anyway, but man, that ticker ain’t getting younger. The post-mortem Facebook status is something to consider.
Some of us in our 40s will be gobsmacked upon realizing many of our high school friends back home have high school grads of their own.
Others of us in our 40s will be dumbfounded upon realizing our friend from high school who moved to the big city just attended a graduation, from kindergarten.
And we’ll all shudder in unison at that one poor random sonavabitch who’s already a grandparent.
If you do have young children, they will make you feel young*.
*Also, old.
You will be mocked by the Internet for enjoying “Dad Rock.” The Internet is stupid. If Dad Rock includes Wilco, Foo Fighters, Spoon, Jay Z, and the Hold Steady then Turn. It. Up.
But only to a reasonable level.
Oh, another guy lumped into Dad Rock is the Boss. Bruce Springsteen is awesome. He is also 65. Technically, that's “Granddad Rock.” But you know who did turn 40 in 2015? El-P and Killer Mike. Make fun all you like Pitchforkers, us 40-somethings will be out Running Them Jewels fast. (Although not too fast, you know what that does to your plantar fasciitis.)
Tubby 25-year-old bros will start aping your physique, calling it “Dadbod” to eat double Shake Shacks at lunch. You should be angry at the co-opting of your hard-earned love handles, but damn if you don’t get teary-eyed knowing the kids are alright—GRANDDAD ROCK!
Science says you’ve got less than four decades left. Yes, it is a good time to start listening to audiobooks about the Civil War…
The fat dude in the Mark Duplass HBO show, he’ll be forty this year. In real life, he ain’t getting Amanda Peet. Adjust your expectations accordingly.
Except for the occasional birthday, there will be no more good surprises.
Sadly, more and more, you will be expressing condolences to family and friends on the loss of their parents.
Happily, you’re still a decade away from having to express congratulations to family and friends at all the goddamn weddings of their offspring to come.
Everything becomes codified in your 40s. New experiences are few.
The lives of your children will become what is your life.
Or, if you’re a genius who didn’t breed, you can travel the hell out of the globe, nary a hostel in site.
Maybe you have one big promotion left, or there will be a second marriage, perhaps the cutting off of the necktie on the day you finally open that food boat, or even the new book smell of that dystopian novel set in a Waco water park run by Neo-Nazi werewolves.
But probably not.
The most important thing that nobody tells you about your 40s is this: You are who you are, and probably, who you’re going to be.
And don’t forget. You’re more than halfway to dead...
It’s a wonderful time to be alive.