Somewhere along the way, mahjong became the hottest game in town for women over 45. And I wasn’t about to be left out.
I don’t know when it happened, but suddenly every woman I know is playing mahjong.
Friends who used to meet for lunch or a Pilates class now have standing mahjong games. My Instagram feed is full of colorful tiles, gorgeous game tables and women proudly announcing they’ve finally learned how to play. Even the friends who can never seem to find time to get together are somehow available every Tuesday at 1:00.
Apparently, there’s a whole mahjong world out there, and I missed the memo.
So of course, I wanted in.
The first thing I learned is that you can’t just show up and play. There are lessons to take, rules to learn, and an entire vocabulary that sounds like someone made it up after a lot of cocktails.
Bams, cracks, dots, dragons, jokers, the Charleston. What?
And then there’s the card. The National Mah Jongg League puts out a new one every year, filled with rows of numbers and colors that are supposed to tell you which hands you can play.
I stared at mine for about 20 minutes before realizing I was holding it upside down.
I’ve managed a household, raised children, and navigated more than a few complicated situations in my life. Surely I could figure out a game involving little plastic tiles.
Turns out, not so fast.
First, There’s the Shopping
Before I could even play a decent hand, I discovered that mahjong comes with a whole shopping situation.
Forget the plain old tiles our mothers and grandmothers played with. Today’s mahjong sets come in fabulous colors and patterns, with matching mats, racks, bags and carrying cases. There are designer sets that cost hundreds of dollars.
And women are buying them.
Of course they are. We’re the generation that turned Stanley cups into fashion accessories. Why wouldn’t we need a coordinated mahjong setup?
I went from not knowing what a bam was to seriously considering whether I needed a personalized tile bag and regular trips to HomeGoods to find the mats that were spotted there once.
I don’t even have a regular game yet.
These Women Mean Business
My first few games were humbling.
I assumed mahjong would be a relaxed afternoon of chatting, snacking and occasionally moving a few tiles around.
Wrong.
These women are focused. They know what they’re doing, they know what they need, and they don’t particularly appreciate it when you take three minutes to decide what to discard.
“Are you done?”
Almost. Just trying to figure out if I have any idea what I’m doing.
Meanwhile, the woman across from me is rearranging her tiles at lightning speed, keeping track of every discard, and somehow knowing exactly what everyone else is playing.
I’m just happy when I recognize a dragon.
And don’t be fooled by the wine and snacks. Underneath the friendly conversation, there’s some serious competition happening.
One wrong discard and you can practically feel the disappointment around the table.
Goodbye, Flexible Schedule
Once you find a regular group, mahjong becomes a commitment.
People plan around their games. Vacations, appointments, lunches, even visits from their adult children.
“Sorry, can’t do Thursday. I have mahj.”
And everyone understands.
There’s also an entire system of substitutes. Someone cancels, and the group text lights up like there’s been a medical emergency.
“Anyone free tomorrow at 11?”
Women who take four days to answer a dinner invitation respond in 30 seconds.
Honestly, it’s impressive.
I used to think book club was the ultimate midlife social activity. But let’s face it, half the time nobody reads the book. At mahjong, you actually have to know what you’re doing. Or at least pretend convincingly.
Now I Get It
The funny thing is, somewhere between learning the Charleston and finally understanding what a pung is, I started to see why everyone loves this game.
It’s fun. It’s social. It makes you think. And it’s surprisingly satisfying when the tiles you’ve been collecting finally come together.
There’s also something nice about having a regular date with friends that doesn’t revolve around someone’s birthday, a charity event or another dinner reservation.
For a couple of hours, we’re doing something just for ourselves.
We’re laughing, catching up, complaining about our husbands, mother-in-laws or neighbors, talking about our kids and occasionally remembering that we’re supposed to be paying attention to the game.
And at this age, learning something new feels pretty good. Especially when it comes with friends and snacks.
I’m still a beginner. I make mistakes, ask too many questions and occasionally get so caught up in the conversation that I forget it’s my turn.
But I’m getting better.
I’ve got my card, I’m eyeing a new set of tiles, and I’m working on securing a permanent seat at the table.
So yes, I’ve joined the Mahjong Mafia.
I just hope they don’t kick me out before I actually win a game.
Not quite ready to join the Mahjong Mafia? Gather your girlfriends for something a little less competitive (and possibly more mysterious). Here’s how to throw a tarot party with cards, wine and a little magic.
