What a Nice Guy by Phil Torcivia

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Band of Mothers vs. Band of Brothers


It was a full moon on a Saturday—a perfect night to put on my drinker’s cap. The scene: a local pub showing MMA fights. In one corner (of the pub) was a band of brothers who traded their weapons for lady-killing devices. They were young and hungry. In another corner was a band of mothers who traded their mundane married lives for a night on the town wearing bull’s-eyes. A confrontation was inevitable with me stuck in the middle.

Ding!

I ask many questions; women like that. I do more pinging than ponging because other people’s lives are more interesting than mine. When a question comes my way, I deflect and redirect. I wasn’t out to sell any books last night, so I played ring announcer as I interviewed the contestants.

“These are my friends Kari, Eve, and Beth.”
“So nice to meet you all. Give me the tale of the tape.”
“Huh?”
“Single, married, divorced; kids; occupation; and what-have-you. Just the facts ma’am.”
“We all have teenage children.”
“Yes?”
“Kari here is divorced and she kind of has a boyfriend.”
“Kind of?”
“Her boyfriend is like twenty years younger, so …”
“’Nuf said.”
“Eve is separated and looking to have fun, if you know what I mean.”
“I do.”
“Beth’s relationship is complicated.”
“Aren’t they all?”
“She’s married, living with her husband, but they don’t sleep together. They’re staying together for the kids and because it would be too expensive to split.”
“I may have heard that story somewhere before. So, these ladies are in the arena for what purpose?”
“To have fun.”
“Which includes?”
“I don’t know, hooking up, I guess. I’m married so I can’t relate. I’m just here as a friend.”
“Really?”
“Must husband travels for work, that’s why he isn’t here.”
“Hm.”
“We’re fine. I mean, he is away most of the time—like three weeks a month.”
“Strange.”
“Sure, I wish he were around more, but …”
“Sounds to me like you could be joining this band of mothers soon.”
“Maybe.”

Kari was flirting heavily with the brothers as her teammates giggled. Then, I spoiled the fun by pointing out the flagrant foul.

“She’s into these young boys because there’s no way she’d fall in love with one. It’s safe sex, so to speak.”

Eve was the most aggressive of the bunch, but she was also the most critical. I expected that when I noticed her designer outfit, hair extensions, and various enhancements.

“What are you looking for, Eve?”
“There are only like two attractive guys in this whole place.”
“None taken.”
“How do you know you’re not one of the two?”
“Just a hunch, sugar.”

Beth was the rookie. Her smirks and shy smiles told me she wanted some quick naughtiness without complications. A toy to kiss, touch, and leave without her number would suit her just fine.

“Beth, you have a mischievous look.”
“I’m feeling kind of frisky, I admit. You seem cool enough, so I can tell you.”

When a woman calls me “cool enough” she means I’m not a mating option, so she can tell me sexy, slutty stories without defending herself. Works for me.

“Do tell.”
“I had my first ever one-night stand last weekend.”
“You naughty girl.”
“I know! It was so bad. I felt dirty, in a good way. It was my birthday party and I was a little tipsy. God, it was awesome sex.”
“Sorry I missed it.”

The mothers and brothers flirted and teased. An hour of the game is all I could stand. I excused myself, paid my tab, and headed for the showers. I hope both teams scored.

2 comments:

  1. So the moral of the story is: Trust no one...

    ReplyDelete