Why Did I Say That?

Roller Coaster Ride of Reflection

A family friend was telling me about his newfound love of Electronic Music. He is eighty years old, and was smiling proudly as he said, "Oh, you haven't heard of this music? It's amazing. I think the average age of people at an EM show is 18. The median is probably 14."
I laughed at the thought of him bopping to the electronic beats like a sore thumb, and said, "Wow, you are pulling up the average."
Then he looked at me with eyes weighed down by dark bags, and flatly said, "Yah!"
With enthusiasm drained from his face, he said goodbye for the final time and left to go to the show.
I turned to my brother, and out of the corner of my mouth I said, "Why did I say that? Do you think that was rude? I was trying to be funny."
He started laughing behind a tight fist covering his mouth, and said, "No, don't worry about it."
I think he said don't worry so I'd let it go, rather than believe I was not rude, like pacifying someone who got drunk and embarrassed themselves by telling them, "It wasn't so bad."
Had I not noticed his excitement flatline after my joke, I wouldn't have wasted a thought considering if it had hurt his feelings. Instead, I spent the next couple days, and likely the rest of my life when this man's name come up, thinking about my awful joke.

Once I heard a comedian ask, "Did you ever do something awkward... and then think about it for the next seven years?" I laughed so hard, and thought, "Yes, all the time!" It's baffling, the endless space in my head for resonating feelings of acting like an asshole.
Later that night a relative started acting like an asshole when we sat down for dinner. He was probably shit faced, but since he normally speaks at megaphone volume it's hard to tell. He went on a rant on how he finds my little sister to be gorgeous, skinny, and having the kindest eyes he's ever known. After I watched my sister turn red, I felt like getting up and stuffing a bread roll in his mouth. Many Thanksgivings ago he made everything go silent and awkward when he blared an announcement on the impressive size of her tits. As I sat in my chair praying this wouldn't escalate into Thanksgiving nightmare part two, I kept imagining myself punching him in the face. After a while he changed the subject, but had proven himself to be very drunk and unable to shut up.
I doubt he woke up the next day and thought, "Wow, I sure do sound like a creepy pervert when I start to hone in on my young relative at family parties. I bet it makes her feel awkward to have me objectifying her in front of a room full of people. People must hope I don't come to parties anymore because I can send a good time down the toilet just by opening my loud mouth."
Nope, nope, nope. He doesn't give a shit. He wakes up, goes and takes a shit, and moves on with the day like it is the first page in his book of life, living without any history following him.
I'd hate to take a page out of his book because then it would be empty, but being an asshole, an oblivious asshole, might feel pretty good.