I should write a book about Uncle Roy.I should write a book about Uncle Roy. Oy. So what does a guy do when he's young, relatively good looking, relatively well dressed and incredibly horny? Check out the girls wiggling their butts in dance bars, of course, and hope that someone will finally notice that he is just irresistible. Hope being the operative word there. I had a lot of what I used to call 'bar friends'. These were guys which I saw at the same bars weekend after weekend. After a while if you keep going to the same place you get to know a lot of the other regulars, and that was okay because then you'd have someone to sit with and not look quite so out on the prowl. I know it's sort of hard to imagine a guy in a thin leather tie and topsiders to be on the prowl, but that's the way it felt. Friday night was good, but Saturday night was better. Maybe it's because everybody got up late that day and they could party all night and know that they could sleep late tomorrow too, but Friday was date night and Saturday was no-date night at the bars where I hung out. I had a regular little round going, first this place and then that one and then the next, pretty much in the same order. Habit, I guess. So this one night, right after I got my Subaru, I was making my regular Saturday night rounds. Okay, so it wasn't a Corvette, but the Subaru was the first car I ever had with a real stereo in it, and that wasn't missing any hubcaps or anything. Funny how it increased my self-esteem to be in a car that had all of its original quarter panels. Back then these bars I went to charged admission because there was dancing and pool tables and that sort of stuff. Each one had a little stamp they used to put on your arm, with some stupid saying or a happy face or like that. Sometimes I'd wake up on Sunday morning with these dumb stamps up to my elbow. This Saturday night was like that, and I figured I would wake up with them up to my elbow again the next morning - alone, per usual. A buddy had told me when I was in Harrison's or Houston's or Howie's or whatever the name of the place was, that there was a new place in town where the really wild girls went to pick up guys. I sort of doubted that, as I found the concept of girls actually *looking* to get laid improbable, but it was 2 a.m. |