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Our friend Jonah announced halfway through the game that he just bought a ring for his girl, and then proceeded to pull the two-carat rock out of his pocket to show us. So that’s how Max guilted me into this.
I tell myself I’m having one drink and then calling myself a cab as we enter the dimly-lit space that’s loud as hell. This was never my scene, even for that brief period of time when I was young, single and believed I had the world by the balls.
And as I sip my whiskey, only half listening to my friends’ conversation, it’s not hard to recall why I always preferred townie bars. I like drinking beer, listening to good music and watching whatever playoff game happens to be playing on the big screen television. I don’t like it here. The guys are all dressed like Armani models, while the women look like painted versions of their real selves complete with fake eyelashes, hair extensions and fake tits. And while I used to like to dance, I hate the thumping techno crap that’s playing in this place.
Max abandoned the rest of us within ten minutes—surprise, surprise. I can see him out there now with some woman. No, make that two. I’m not old, I’m only twenty-nine, but I feel like I’m fifty all of a sudden. I’d like nothing more than to enjoy this whiskey from the comfort of my own home, sitting in my worn, oversized leather chair.
“You think I’m making a good decision?”
It takes me a second to realize that Jonah is directing this question my way. “About what?”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “About getting married.”
“Sure. I mean, do you love her?”
“Yeah.” He nods once and smiles. “I do. But it’s a big step. I can’t really talk about it with Max even though he’s my best friend. He just doesn’t get it. He likes Lauren and thinks she’s cool, but he doesn’t get me wanting to spend my whole life with just one woman. I know with you…Your situation was complicated and all, but what’s it like, marriage?”
I take a long pull off my drink and Jonah mistakes this for anger. “I’m sorry, man. Shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“No, it’s all right. I just…Maybe I’m not the right guy to be asking. My marriage was…” It was, it was—it’s something I still can’t bring myself to talk about. “But I do know happily married people. My parents are married thirty-two years and they’re still going strong. Like two halves of one good, solid unit. It exists, you just have to find the right person, I guess.”
Find the right person. Who am I to be doling out advice? I don’t know shit. “Want another?” I ask him as I turn back to the bar.
“I’m good,” he answers, and a moment later he taps me on the shoulder and points towards the door. Two girls come walking in, and the one who makes eye contact with Jonah looks as hopeful and sparkly as a brand-new penny. “That’s her.”
I can’t help but smile when I see the looks that pass between them. It is out there, I guess. As pessimistic as I may be, I do believe in true love. Just my crap luck that I didn’t find the right girl.
I excuse myself and go to the bathroom when Lauren’s friend starts making a play for me. I’m just not in the mood. I tell myself I’ll say my goodbyes and then head home, knowing I’m more than slightly buzzed already. All this marriage talk had me swilling drinks at a way faster pace than normal and I’m feeling it now.
When I get back to where we were standing, the others are gone and it’s just Max with two girls. Not the ones he was dancing with before. He hands me another whiskey and I groan. “I have to be up at the crack of dawn, Max.”
“Live a little, Grandpa.” Turning to the girls, he says, “Ladies, this is my friend, Leo.” He doesn’t bother to introduce them by name because I’m sure he doesn’t know them.
“Hi, Leo. I like that name,” the one closest to me says.
She doesn’t offer her name in return and I don’t really care. She’s attractive, I guess. Any other normal person would say that she’s hot—I know this—but I’ve been having a hard time mustering up anything close to interest or initiative in that department for some time.
The other one already has her arms wrapped around Max’s neck and she’s whispering in his ear. When the music changes, though, she pops her head up like a poltergeist and screams, “I love this song!”
“C’mon,” she corrals the rest of us, “we’re dancing to this one.”
I have no idea what this song is. To me it sounds like all the others. But it must be popular because the floor is packed. Whatever, I’m lazy now and let her lead me out onto the dance floor as Max’s babe takes him by the hand and does the same. It takes me a minute or two to get into it, but my new friend is bumping and grinding enough for the two of us right off the bat.
I find that I’m not loving this, but maybe I am liking it a little. I’m taking in everything around me and remembering the way I used to be. I take in the scent that is unmistakably feminine, losing myself in that combination of sweat and heat and sweetness. And now she’s got her arms wrapped around my neck and her body pressed into the grooves of mine. I like the feel of it, but it’s like an out of body sensation, like it’s a memory.
This girl is yelling above the music into my ear. I can’t really make out what until she says something about Cirque de Soleil and then laughs as she looks to the group of people behind her. She must have thought that’s where my attention was focused, and while it wasn’t before, it is now.
There’s eight, maybe ten of them clustered together. The women are mostly long and lean, a few are curvier, and the guys aren’t dressed like the finance bro set. No, they’re more artsy. And once you look, you can’t look away because these people can move. I get what this chick was saying, they do look like performers, but she said it as a dig, like there’s something staged and ridiculous about them.
I see nothing but sex.
I see bodies moving in perfect rhythm.
I see sweat rolling down one girl’s neck.
I see hips pressed back against her man’s eager dick.
Oh, that’smygirl pressing her ass against my dick, but I’m not eager for her and don’t want her thinking that I am. I go to move her forward, gently, and turn to make my way back off the dance floor. I don’t want what she’s offering. Nothing good will come of it. She looks back to me pouting as I mouth the wordsorry.
