It’s been a while. A long while. But, there I am, with my new buddy Shane, drink in hand, in the Viper Room. Just outside the door, that’s where River Phoenix died. Right on the cement. Johnny Depp owns this place. Nobody around me has any sense of that. Or, maybe they do. Maybe ghosts don’t always haunt a place with grief.
I’m looking around, looking at all the kids. I’m old. Dirt calls me grandpa. Shane and I have been talking all night, sharing memories. We’re waiting for a band to start. I’m running out every two hours to throw two bucks in the meter so I don’t get anther $45 parking ticket that I can’t afford.
The real drinks are six bucks a pop, so I ask for a four dollar Coke. I’m pretty certain that four dollar shake is better than this. Flat and full of ice.
The floor is sticky. The couches are old. I’m pretty certain they’ve never been cleaned. I’m also pretty sure everyone in the room thinks we’re gay. Shane and I are trading ex-girlfriend stories, our heads close together while we try to talk through the noise.
On the couch, there’s so little room to move. A pretty little thing in a tight black tank top sits next to me, her body close to mine. I don’t do anything about it. That’s when I realize I’m not who I used to be. My reflexes are still tuned to husband-mode.
I turn to Shane and say, “How do I do this again?”
“Do what?” he asks.
I wave my hands at the place. “This. It’s been so long, I’ve forgotten how to do this.”
He laughs and tells me its been a while for him, too. Been a while for both of us.
Women have the advantage. Always have. Women are looking for a companion. Men are waitng for permission. That’s what we’re taught. You wait for the woman to make the first move. Problem is, the guys who are with someone, they didn’t wait. That’s why they’re with someone. It’s been so long, I forgot about that rule.
The band we’re waiting for starts up. They’re hillarious. An 80’s cover band that looks like Poison/Motley Crue/Ratt and acts like high school freshmen. Intentionally. They’re a riot. Play the place every Monday. I’ll have to go back and see them again.
The next morning, I’m awake, thinking about last night. Thinking about my husband-mode. And I realize I’m probably still waiting for permission, while she’s looking for a companion. Have to fix that.