Torn and Frayed

I met the gymroids at the Irish bar last night.  Early, not night, really.  Five o'clock.  I was late and getting texts wondering my whereabouts.  I was slow to go.  I didn't really feel like participating for whatever reason.  Maybe it was intuition, maybe the stars had changed, something moving into or out of my house.  The heavens are as chaotic as our individual lives. But you know how it goes. . . you usually end up having fun.  

But not last night. It wasn't a boy's club, and there were as many female Club Y members there as male.  But even before I got there, Tennessee had texted me that a fellow who had been banished from the text group was there.  He got ghosted because of his "untoward" behavior.  He's not "socially acceptable," etc.  When I walked in, Tennessee nodded in his direction at the bar.  I've said some pretty rough things about him, so I didn't know what was going to happen.  He's a dog and acts like every woman is in heat.  Most guys have some of that, you know.  Even the dorkiest of men, especially if they have money, think that most women are interested in them.  

"Did you see that?  She just smiled at me.  She's been looking over here all night."

I've always been one of the girls, in a sense, never wanting to hang with dudes, so I've had some insight into the way women handle "the male gaze" and its attendant behaviors.  

"Oh, shit. . . that guy is coming over here.  Give it two minutes then come and get me and say you need me for a minute. . . oh. . . hiiiiieee."  Big smile.  Then she's gone.  

Guys are dopes.  I learned early--don't think girls like you and keep your hands to yourself.  

Sorta.  

The party was at the bar but was quickly outgrowing it, so I went to the backroom and put together some tables.  Tennessee came back and rolled his eye.  Then Dog Boy glommed onto us.  When the waitress came back in the skimpy costume the place has now put them in, Dog Boy started barking.  It took whatever energy I had right out of me.  But when everyone came in from the bar, Dog Boy stuck right with Tennessee and me.  

"Are there any new girls in the gym?"

My night out was doomed.  The room grew loud and you could only talk to the people immediately around you.  I drank my beer, ate a fried Reuben roll, and got up.  It's like that sometimes.  I threw a wad of twenties over to the fellow who always pays for everything.  

"What's this?" he asked.  

"It's for the sexual favors," I laughed.  

By the time I had gotten home and poured a scotch, Tennessee called.  

"I bounced right after you left," he said.  He was on his way to see some people at a bar across town.  

"Nope.  I'm home for the evening," I said.  

I'll need to check my horoscope.  I've been asked by three people to the same Octoberfest celebration at the German Club or the Bavarian Club or something.  Apparently it is quite an event in a huge chalet, or so I'm told.  But I don't do well in crowds, especially ones where I know people.  It is just too much work for so little reward.  It's always the same thing, people either looking to hook up or people looking for social connection.  There is liquor.  There are drugs.  Sometimes, maybe, there is more.  And I guess I should admit that I met my ex-wife at a crazy affair, "Wasted on Westlake," where the who's who of the village took floatation devices to paddle out to the bar barge in the middle of the lake.  I have in my life been part of the madness.  

But things become repetitive and eventually tiring.  As always, it is better in a quiet cafe with one's own people and only a few.  

Maybe things will be better today.  

The Hukilau was a bar I used to go to with my importer friends in Key West.  It was really something.  Sometimes, you know, one DOES have some fun.  I sang this song for many, many years.