CLUB 54
By Duncan
When I was a young and impetuous kid, it was considered common and normal—and I’m talking about New York City during my college days—to have dinner and lots of booze, finishing the night off with an all-night breakfast and eggs kind of place, about 4:00 in the morning. It was fun, exciting, and a way of life for me—it might have even been called a lifestyle.
Speaking of an over-the-top lifestyle. CLUB 54 was located at 245 West 54th Street, New York City, hence the monitor “54.” I don’t want you to think that my dinner invitation the other night in sleepy mid-western Indianapolis was anything like the excitement of CLUB 54, New York City. That would be a stretch.
However, as a member in good standing and a solid citizen of my HOA’s Rules and Regulations Board, I worry about what others might think of my late-night comings and goings. I have neighbors who might be looking out their windows and wondering, “Just look at him coming home at 3:30 in the morning. Despicable.”
Yes, it was one of those nights. The evening started with pleasant conversation. A cocktail was offered, and a cocktail was received. A second libation before dinner? I weighed the moment, the company, the atmosphere.
Well, sure, I’ll have another one. After all, I see the broasted chicken, the salad, and the vegetables being prepared. The food will fill my soul and allow the alcohol to gel with the nourishment, and I will be able to balance matter over mind. I’ve done it before, and I can certainly do it again.
After all, the conversations are getting interesting. We have moved from complimenting the host on his beautiful home to politics to test the waters as to who is leaning which way. The more interesting topic of discussion is the relationship between a man and a woman. The more we drink, the more the testimony from the book of man and woman is laid bare on the table.
Oh, my, this is going to be an interesting night. We have three unmarried men and one married man. The unmarried have lost their wives to death and or divorce, and they are back on the market looking for love, companionship, and sex. I was surprised at how candid this conversation was going to be.
Although the men are looking, it becomes clear as the night progresses that they are not necessarily interested in long-term committed relations with another woman. We move to a table outside on the Veranda for dinner. The red wine is flowing. The broasted chicken is good, and the salad is acceptable. The conversation becomes unmediated to raw, and candid language has become the focus on the obvious. Women.
The fly in the ointment is that they are comparing the world of women today with the world of their past wives. It’s becoming clear that they all have expectations. They have had relationships with one woman for 20-30 years, and the women they meet occasionally now are nowhere near what they have known in the past.
The term “Baggage” appears in the conversation. I, of course, know where we are going with this epogram. One can only assume most women they meet have an agenda. It is strongly believed among the men attending our quaint dinner party that women are looking for a man to care for them. A woman will do anything the man wants until she catches him, and then she can return to her real self.
I hold my wine glass to my lips and hear one of the men say, “It’s been said that the bride walking down the aisle will say to herself, That’s the last BJ I will ever give.”
I’ve heard that cliche before, and I assume that, in some cases, it is more than likely true.
I remember when my mom passed, and my father was alone. I took him to church every Sunday, and he was happy to be in a place he loved and could talk with people he admired.
I went to the church basement to get a coffee before the service. I noticed a big round table of older widowed women sitting together. There must have been eight of them. They all noticed me and, with a broad smile, asked me to join their table.
“How’s George doing since Lucy passed.”
I gave them a few obligatory words: “He’s doing pretty good right now.” I wasn’t sure what they wanted to hear. Maybe they wanted to hear that he was all torn to pieces and could barely function. He was grieving, couldn’t eat, and was losing weight. Who knows what a widow wants to hear about a husband after he loses his wife? Could they possibly want to hear that he misses her terribly? Could that message resonate back to their marriages? I felt like I was walking and talking to a minefield.
I leaned into the group and decided to tread softly. Eight widows were living alone, and they might be interested in Dad as a companion. Yes, I was getting ready to play “Match Game.” So, I phrased my question delicately without being too obvious about my intentions.
“So, tell me about yourselves, what do you all need or want after you lose your spouse?”
“I sure don’t need to be waiting hand and foot over another man, picking up his dirty shorts off the floor and expecting me to wash and iron his clothes.”
“I am never going back to being told what I can and can’t do again.”
The rest of the women nodded in agreement with the outspoken women. The women who talked had a very sharp tongue and made no bones about how they felt. I was taken aback and almost shocked. These kind, older, good Christian church women had a real answer to relationships. I had no idea they would be this outspoken about relationships/marriage. I realized I needed to run for cover, so to speak.
“So, tell me, help me, how should I expect my Dad to behave now that he is alone?”
“He will be fine, not to worry.”
I sat back and watched the group talk among themselves. I had dodged a bullet. It was as if I weren’t there. I listened to them talk and drank my coffee. The more they talked, the more I became invisible, which was what I wanted to happen. I didn’t want to be caught trying to play Cupid.
None of them were interested in another marriage or relationship. They had their dogs or cats and were satisfied with life as it was! Their relationship with a man was slammed shut.
I was invited to this dinner by an old motorcycle pal of mine. We don’t see each other very often. He still rides, but I gave up the sport of motorcycling several years ago.
He decided to invite me and several other men over for dinner. All were retired, some doing better financially than others, but most seemed to have “enough” to make it to the end of life. As the night continued, we had lots to discuss—old and current events. Among the chatter, a conversation started. The question was raised.
If you were on a deserted island and could only have one thing on the island, would you want Books, Music, or Movies?
“What about Television? What about women?” What about electricity? What about golf? It was restated that we were talking about a deserted island. The deserted island question became a moot point after dinner and a couple more adult beverages. So you can imagine the question on a deserted island faded into many other topics.
And the main topic of conversion for the night was “women.” The lack of women and the lack of sex. I’m unaware of the “market or the demographics” for retired men. Or retired women, for that matter. I assume a retired man is looking for a “retired-aged woman.” Unless he is craving a “Trophy Wife.”
The term “Baggage” came up again. Of course, there is zero “Baggage” among the men at this diner party. This group of men at my dinner party is perfect in every way. I was drinking, but I was still able to listen to reason.
I asked if anyone was using a dating website. Only one admitted to using one. The general feeling was that it was a waste of time. The pictures of the women were years old, and most had gained a lot of weight, but they (the women) were still hopeful that they would find someone.
The question of where you meet these women was asked. In other words, how much money are you spending trying to find a woman? It was disclosed that he (Number One) generally met women for lunch. But because of his disappointments, he now only meets for coffee.
Another was going to single functions. Man Number Two went to his first singles function and was looking for the entrance to the event. An attractive woman exited her car and asked if he was lost. He told the nice lady that he was looking for the singles event. “Oh, I’m headed there myself. Come with me, and I will show you where the entrance is.”
She stayed close to him the entire night. It made Number Two a little uncomfortable that she was so close during the entire evening. Finally, he was ready to leave and thanked her for showing him the entrance. There was a pause in the goodbye, and he asked if she would like to return to his place for a nightcap.
She said she would love to. Of course, we were all ears to this story. “What happened then? What did she say?”
“She came back to my place. And we talked for about an hour.”
“Talked that’s all you did, was talk? You got a picture of her?”
Reasonable facsimile.
Number Two invited his newfound friend to another night out, and it was also a singles-sponsored function. Our Number Two started talking to an attractive woman sitting behind him. Our lovely that he brought to the event pulled him aside and said,
“Hey, Buster, you’re with me, and I don’t want you hitting on my girlfriends.”
Number Two informed us that the “freind” sitting behind his date accepted his invitation for a date that night.
"All is fair in love and war" is often attributed to John Lyly's 1579 novel Euphues: The Anatomy of Wit, which includes the quote, "The rules of fair play do not apply in love and war."
I remember Frank Sinatra singing a song called “Luck Be a Lady Tonight.” If you have never heard the song and don’t know it, give it a listen, and you might figure out what I was thinking.
The evening turned to early morning, and I got an earful. I haven’t had this much fun listening to grown men talk about women in a long time. And to think, I thought it was only me!
