I was standing at the urinal when a gentleman sidles up two stalls over.It was that time of night where people start swaying from the booze and he seemed to be wading through some very difficult waters. He took a loud breath and proclaimed to no one in particular, "The girls are in it tonight! Yeah. If you can't laid, you're f----d up."
Let's be clear: loutish declarations in men's washrooms should always be ignored, but I had to agree with the first half of his outburst. The ladies certainly were in it this evening. Everyone was, in fact — men and women. The band was killing it on stage, the club was packed and based a quick survey of faces on the way to the bathroom, I surmised that a good time was being had by all.
And it's true that when booze and good music enter the equation, some women have a tendency to express themselves through sensual body maneuvers that may appear to some men to indicate sexual desire. Of course, more often than not, they're just dancing.
And so, I took issue with the second half of this man's statement. How widespread dancing in the female contingency translated into a widespread urge to get bizzeh was truly beyond me. His was the kind of generalization that would a) lead to bitter disappointment if he didn't get laid (and I'd be impressed if he did, with a mouth and gait like that), and, b) compel a complete stranger to deconstruct his statements in the local press.
Make no mistake: I'm no expert on women. I've been just as confused by the flirtations of boozing broads on many a dance floor, as this man swaying at the urinal clearly was. Some women have the unfortunate tendency to grind up on and press lips upon men with whom they have no intention of ever going home with. But more exasperating is their predilection to make a man feel worth a damn, by showing him real affection and relating to him on a fundamentally human level in a way that sexual attraction does not necessarily factor in to.
And men, through faulty wiring likely inherited from our primal ancestors, routinely mistake this feminine urge to communicate as a desire to romp around in the sack.
But maybe some of them do desire a romp? Again, I'm no expert on women and any man who claims to be, and doesn't hold a PhD in female psychology and biology, is a fool. I have a wonderful girlfriend whom I love, but haven't a clue why she thinks or says or reacts the way she does at certain times. I understand her just enough that I'm able to keep her happy about 65 per cent of the time, which I believe is the base acceptable amount before she packs her bags. All that I truly know is that a woman's approach to sex is often vastly different than how many men think it is.
When I left the restroom I found that little had changed inside the club. Another quick survey of faces indicated that a fun time was still being had by all. I ordered a drink and nestled a cozy spot against the bar to watch the band and observe the cases of courtship laid before me. I had a clear view of the entire dance floor and the upper area beside the bar. It was clear that the swaying gentleman at the urinal was not alone in his salacious desires. The men, they were a-prowlin'.
There's a particular look in a man's eyes when he has his sights set on a potential mate. We all dress it up differently with various facial expressions but the eyes are usually the same: that of a laser beam cutting through cloth. The beams were in full force tonight.
A young woman walked by and made a point of gawking at me for the length of time it took to walk past, and then promptly directed her eyes elsewhere. She found a dude standing at the far end of the bar, someone she was presumably acquainted. They embraced in a hug and she rubbed his stomach. They separated and it was clear from the distance between them that they had yet to be intimately acquainted. He started talking and she nodded her head jovially, though, with the space between them and the music as loud as it was, there was little chance she had any idea what he was saying.
A buddy came up to me and we got to talking but the conversation soon devolved into statements about our separate levels of drunkenness. I glanced back at the end of the bar and saw that the pair were now a couple and the guy had his tongue deep in the gal's mouth. He was right deep in there. I'd sure like to know how that story ended.