Listening Past the "Hot"

This is the Cottage Bar on Fort Myers Beach.

I was dragged out of my condo Saturday by a single girlfriend and we went on one of her marathon tours of beach bars in search of cool guys - no easy task at our age. She made me stop at Parrot Key first, saying she had run into some guys and they were supposed to be there. She said they were "older guys."

I asked "how old". She said "not so old that they wouldn't be fun to dance with."

I said NO!!!!!!

But she whined and got me there anyway. Parrot Key is a wonderful place and they had a dj that night. We found them at a table and the one immediately got up, put her purse on the table and whisked her off to the dance floor. I was left with the drooly loose-lipped guy who had had the stroke.

I remember meeting him at the Estero Singles Dance we refer to as God's Waiting Room. This time I danced one dance ... remembering the horror at Cin Cin just last week with the Beetlegeuse Guy. One dance is polite. More than one is leading them on and personally horrific. He tried to dance couples to fast music and I said I don't do that.

Nobody touches me.

My friend asked if I wanted to stay. NO!! This is a word I am not accustomed to using with such force. I am 57, my friend is 60 - we are both very young for our age, in good health. People in our age group now range from fit and fun to nursing home appropriate.

She asked again. NO!!! I wanted out!!!

My New Years resolution was that I would not suffer idiots. I will also not put myself out and ruin MY evening by being TOO DAMNED NICE.

She dragged me to the Yucatan. It just opened, it's beautiful and has adjacent free parking. If you're not a local, it's not easy knowing where to park. Some pretty young drunk thing with giant fake hooters was singing karaoke -"Baby Got Back". Shaking it.

The fake ones don't shake all that well - they're more hard boiled than over easy. I used to not like mine, but at least they're original equipment. I finally accept them after all these years. Although in this searing heat it's like having four armpits.

We know the woman who runs the karaoke and she looked very unhappy. Apparently Fake Tits was not willing to vacate the stage so someone else could sing. The table of locals behind us was grumbling. It's not easy being local color putting up with drunk tourists.

Finally the local was grudgingly granted space on the stage and the first words out of his mouth were "Baby Got Front Too!" Everyone laughed.

Not me. It wasn't a nice crowd, I couldn't wait to get out.

Lighthouse Tiki Bar was sort of dead. Handcuff Larry was DJ for the night. My friend asked if I wanted to stay and I said NO.

New Kings were blasting rock from the Barking Shark; we walked in and there were two stools at the bar - very rare, precious as diamonds. I wanted to stay. Really hard, loud rock. I love it.

She said NO.

So we went off to the Cottage. This was all getting very old very fast. However - there was a great entertainer at the Cottage! And people at the bar! And two cute single guys our age! One was deeply tanned with blue eyes and a white baseball cap. The other had a shaved head, nice eyes, tasteful tropical shirt and khaki shorts.

I liked the latter. They're from Chicago, were staying at an area hotel and could walk back to their rooms. We joked about one room or two - straight or gay.

The one I liked said he hates faggots. Dealbreaker.

However, he WAS sober. He attempted to soften his remark but it rang in my ears and I focused attentions elsewhere.

My friend went for the other one. I was at the other end of this four-person interaction, being leaned on by a guy (also our age) to my left who was out on a date with a classy younger woman. This guy was HILARIOUS. She looked like she was being patient. I noticed she was drinking water.

I know what it's like to be the patient one drinking the water. Charming and funny when a relationship is new it gets VERY old after some years.

It was a great time. A major hunk directly across from me was flirting and wanted me to come to his side. He was my son's age.

Another guy who I almost had a date with showed up and I felt him behind us waiting for his turn at the bartender. I poked my friend and whispered "the guy behind us is the one I ditched because he got on my nerves."

Weeks ago I explained that I met him at 7 at Lighthouse Tiki Bar and he was hammered and pawing. He violated my personal space. I reminded him I was a local and I have my reputation to think of. He didn't stop.

And he was looming behind me. A giant of a guy. He must have moved into the area, this is like the third sighting.

He whispered "sorry, I'm just trying to get a drink" and I turned around and looked him in the eye. He said OMIGOD ... I am SO SORRY!!! Just on an on. And he said he was leaving but kept coming back. My friend pointed out he was dancing with every skank at the bar and I said "I guess he's showing ME!" She laughed.

At one point he RESTED HIS CHIN ON MY SHOULDER.

This was very annoying. He asked if he was bothering me and I said YES. Just like last time you IDIOT! (I only thought that part.)

At any rate, the hunky bald guy finally leaned over across empty barstools (as our mutual friends danced) and asked what my story was.

He had really nice eyes. He said he had an incredible ability to read people. Arrogance ... red flag.

I told him about moving from Michigan, about the almost seven year relationship that turned abusive, etc., etc. He asked what about me made me choose abusive men. Which pissed me off. And yeah, I explained that I am attracted to incredibly intelligent, complicated men and sometimes that can backfire.

What am I doing explaining myself to strangers??!

When I asked him about himself he was oddly silent. I said "I can feel your walls" and he said "I don't have walls" and I said "yes you do." Then he explained everyone from Chicago needs walls.

Are you married, are you going with somebody? None of the above.

I said "you're Italian." He said yeah and looked a little surprised. We talked some more. The chemistry was there from the start but we finally started clicking mentally.

I haven't had sex in six months. I haven't had good sex in four years. My libido is in a battle with my head, which is what got me into this emotional mess in the first place.

He said I needed to open up and be myself. Another red flag. My book on emotional abuse says to listen to your body when you meet people. I could feel my entire right side tense up. But other parts ...

I said "I'm Finnish - I'm a better listener than a talker." I am who I am and I'm not changing for anybody. I will adapt to a degree that is comfortable, but I will not change.

They asked us back to their hotel. I said I had to go home and let my dogs out. Bald guy said "oh, the dogs are more important." YEAH, THEY ARE MORE IMPORTANT.

How many red flags does a person need.

I can handle going to a hotel with guys - I can have a drink and conversation and go home. But I don't believe in being even a little buzzed and getting behind a wheel. Besides which, I was getting tired and when I get tired, that IS driving impaired.

I suggested we walk down to the Barking Shark. They had heard New Kings and really liked them. It was a nice compromise.

We walked beachside instead of sidewalk. What a gorgeous night ... it had cooled off, the sky was black with a near-full moon behind a haze. There were slight shimmers of silver marking the edge of the water.

He offered his arm for me to put my arm through as we walked. It was very nice. And we held hands. Even though he annoyed me it was super nice.

But New Kings were closing down. The four of us were walking towards Lighthouse Tiki (and their hotel beyond ... I assumed my friend was going with them) when I counted the flags and told myself I'm not even going to BEGIN thinking about anything like that again.

I said I have to go home, I'm tired.

Bald guy was unhappy; I gave him a hug and a kiss.

Never Wear Spangles to a Biker Bar.

It was Saturday. I run a big singles meetup and we had plans ... I actually went to some trouble because we have a new guy who's pretty cute. I wore a long brown skirt and a brown top with spangles.

This was entirely appropriate for a Saturday night at Leapin' Lizard in Cape Coral. I felt girly, which is rare for me.

It was Deb and the Dynamics (photo above) playing in the inside room. At Lani Kai last weekend they were awesome - the music ROCKED the whole hotel right down to the beach and everyone danced, from little kids to old folks.

At Lizards, the inside room sucked. It is claustrophobic, it has too many doors and too narrow doorways, you can't mingle and if you dance it gets hot as hell. It was suffocating.

A small group of us finally gave it up and went outside with our cocktails. We are more than Sexless in the City - we are the GPBP ... "Good People, Bad Places" type. We swear and enjoy rough bars. You'd never know it to look at us. We look "proper".

Looks can be deceiving.

One of the guys misplaced his keys. I won't get into how. But he misplaced them and we had to try to track them down or someone was going to have to help him find a place to stay. I'm never falling for that trick again.

We thought the keys had been left in another member's car, so we walked through Cape Coral around midnight headed for where we thought the guy with the car was - the Deck Bar, a biker bar.

Three females (one Canadian) and two guys.

I can always measure the crowd at a glance. Our Canadian disappeared into the crowd for her first lap round the bar and emerged rosy cheeked and exhilarated ... she had been hit on immediately.

In a situation like that, it's not so much that you got hit on - but who by. I had seen the crowd, there was nobody I wanted to be hit on BY.

She slurringly insisted I had to come in for "at least one." She was one cocktail short of "I love you man."

I flashed back on that morning after yoga. The muscled masseur had asked if I wanted a massage and I said "I'm Finnish - nobody touches me unless they buy me drinks." Which was a joke, but it felt creepy in hindsight.

If a masseur writes children's books, does that make him Dr. Masseuse? :-)

So there at the Deck I made it a Diet Coke and promptly got hit on by a drunk my son's age. He was fascinated by my top. It was a little like that recurring nightmare where you're in class in your underwear.

"What do you call those ..." he waved his meaty forefinger in little circles too close to my cleavage ... "spangles!?"

Yeah, spangles. Close enough. So sorry I wore that top.

The Canadian was making nice with the owner, who reminded me of the state senator I used to date. I'm going to have a little chat with her later ... or supervise her the next time she drinks.

Anyhoo, it totally sucked from that point on. The Spangles guy kept repeating himself ... that circle talking just wears me out. Being from Michigan, I must be polite at all times.

I especially hate being the only totally sober one. I gave everyone a hug goodbye and split ... those effin spangles bouncing and glittering through the darkness all the way back to my car - which was still at Lizards.

I decided to close off the weekend with a gentler day on Sunday.

I went to Tim's Place on Hurricane Bay. It had been a while. It started off ok ... nice day. Dolphins were out in the bay hunting ... I thought I saw a shark fin. Sharks gotta eat too.

Two women sat down next to me. One was adorable, red hair, perky nose, cute figure, a little younger than me. Her hair was up and there were flakes the size of Special K at the nape of her neck.

I moved my wine as far away as I could and tried not to gack.

Two girlfriends showed up and we sat at the other end of the bar. A big pasty red haired Irishman came over and invited "us" to his side of the bar. He had an eye on me. I said maybe in a bit. I love foreigners; even if they're drinking.

Apparently he was on the cusp of hammered when he braved the trip across the room, because in a short time he was TOTALLY blottoed and he had found a similarly blottoed pleasantly plump young brunette to dance with him.

He was dancing dramatic as a rock legend with a full stadium, dropping to one knee with arms outstretched as the rock (this was the Gecko Band) reached a fever pitch. The brunette mimicked him and they missed each other by four beats on every move.

He reminded me of my ex BF. Remembering many similarly steamy, humiliating afternoons with him being stupid drunk, I turned and told my friends "at least I'm not going with that one."

At one point he picked the brunette up and ... sure enough, they toppled over into the edge of the bar and empty barstools fell like dominoes. Another patron helped her back to her feet because the Irishman could barely right himself.

I was laughing so hard I nearly peed.

The bruised knees, asses and egos weren't enough to make them stop - they picked themselves up and continued. A few more missed swirls and the Irishman nearly took out the band's surly sound guy.

Then he dropped to his knees and planted his lips on her round belly - again, with arms grandly to his sides. Like he was blowing on her belly button under her white t-shirt. I was half expecting her to inflate.

What the ... ?? They held the position for a good (that's a stretch) sixty seconds.

My own belly cramping from laughter, I turned to my friend Kayla and said - "I have come to a conclusion ...

Florida is a freak show!!!"

The Land That Disco Forgot

Wasn't sure I was up to going out after work ... but Donna called and I decided I was. David Johnson of the Neville Brothers was playing at CinCin and he is awesome. Wine is $8/glass for a good Riesling ... and yeah, sometimes I deserve to spoil myself a little.

Sally called too. Every time I see her I hope she'll be less of an attention hound. Her husband has been deceased for about a year and she has wasted no time dating any man who asks. I'm not sure why it bugs me so much. I guess it's so in your face ... bragging about two or three dates a day, dressing like a 30s pinup, constantly checking her phone for the possibility of a missed message and wanting to leave any place where nobody hits on her within 15 minutes.

One of the guys she dates looks like a cadaver ... but he's rich.

There have been a few times when I wondered why I don't get the same amount of attention ... but then I'm putting out weird vibes. I know it. My aura has barbed wire and gun turrets - I am terrified of involvement. Sally is in heat and the dogs line up.

She showed up after CinCin was jammed. Donna and I were sitting on a love seat near David Johnson. Rather than stand, Sally sat on my arm on the love seat. No, she didn't really sit - she posed. She was elevated and highly visible to the guys at the bar. She stretched her legs out elegantly and didn't care that she was crowding me.

When a seat across from us became available, I suggested she sit there. She said "no, I'm comfortable where I am." I said we had a fourth friend showing up, if she would sit there, she would save it for her. Only then did she move.

An attractive man asked her to dance one time. Later he came back and asked me to dance. He asked my name, he looked at my left hand and asked if I was married. He was surprised I wasn't. Something about the way he said it ... I was flattered. We talked a bit. He seemed ok.

After I danced with him, Sally was suddenly interested. She followed him out of the building for fresh air. They were out there a long time.

Donna noticed.

I always wonder if I'm exaggerating circumstances. I don't think so. I once told Sally I never wanted to date anyone she had "gone out with" and she said "well, you won't have any dates because there won't be any left." She threw it out like a challenge. You'd think she was 16 not 60.
There is something so ugly about this time of life. Maybe it's the desperation factor. Donna kept saying "look how hard everyone tries."

I thought of my fancy friend who is leaving her wonderful husband because she "doesn't love him any more." Wait until she finds out what it's like to be single at this age.

An older gentleman who was built exactly like my Great Aunt Lily kept staring at me. My Aunt Lily had a tiny head and a poofy body, sort of like the shrunken head guy in Beetlegeuse. (SP?) And she was exactly that unattractive.

Donna and I kept whispering during the slow songs to help prevent unwanted advances ... but this old guy managed to lock eyes like a hungry dog under a dinner table. He was old enough to be my father.

It was hot and loud, I signaled that I wasn't in the mood to dance. Which was shitty because I had danced nearly every third dance with Donna. (During those times Sally had "lain across" the whole of the loveseat with long legs elegantly extended in white Bealls Outlet clearance rack capris pants in order to "save" it for us.)

I immediately felt like shit for blowing the guy off. There was a younger black woman to my right and I looked her in the eyes and said "I know - I'm going to hell." She replied "it took him hours to build up the courage to ask you to dance."

Holy f... I never think of myself in those terms. I think of myself as adequate at best, not some potential heartbreaker. I said "but he looks like my Aunt Lily" and she laughed hard.

I went and asked him to dance. Then I couldn't get rid of him. It was pretty awful. During the slow dances he kept staring at me and I deliberately looked the other way. I could not look him in the eyes.

Yeah, I deserve to have been so uncomfortable. But then came a point when it would have been mean to let him think I had any interest in him. One day someone his own age will.

The crowd was interesting, Donna sat there mesmerized. In our late 50s, we were age appropriate for the disco Dave was singing. Those were our times, when we were young and vital. However, there were also people our parents' age in attendance. Sometimes it was utterly charming and at others disturbing.

One woman reminded me of my Grandmother, who died last year at 96. Something about the way she held her fingers while dancing reminded me of Gram's mannerisms when she was being flirtatious in the dementia ward.

If you could harness the financial force of all the plastic surgeries in that room, you could live the rest of your life in incomparable luxury. Some people had been lifted, sucked and tucked to the point of being skeletal.

Donna said she will never do that, but you wonder. If you had the money - wouldn't you? I'm sure they see themselves as they hope they look. We will probably do the same. Maybe we do that now.

One handsome middle-aged guy had rented two skanks for the night. His arrogance was unsettling. He was taking pictures of them dancing together in mega-cheap dresses and shoes; he danced between them at one point.

One of the skanks had bandaids on her arm and back. You have to wonder what that's all about. How many condoms makes you safe with that?

You especially have to wonder what he was so proud of ... being able to afford to have women demean themselves on his account? Doesn't that say "I don't have the necessary character to have someone be interested in me for who I am."

Ten years ago I would have laughed. Now I think it's disgusting. Maybe because each of those skanks were once some Grandmother's granddaughter. It hits too close to home.

Maybe I'm appalled because I was demeaned in my last relationship. That will never happen again.

Kept watching a gorgeous hunk of a guy ... maybe 45 years old, about 6'2". I thought I saw him watching me. Then he came over and asked why someone as beautiful as me wasn't dancing. He said he wanted to dance with me before I left. Then he said "you don't remember me, do you!" And I didn't.

Then I did ... Leaping Lizards, end of the bar, about nine months ago? I remember thinking at the time "why am I putting up with shit when there are hunks like this floating around!"

I joked that he was much taller than I remembered. Also more handsome, but I didn't say that. I did say he looked wonderful.

He asked if I was still with my boyfriend. I said no.

He said "you're available then?" I said yeah. Basic clothes over his strong frame had an elegance. He is way too hot, way out of my league.

It sounded like he still has my business card.

After paying my bill, I made friends with the woman who had been so honest about the guy who looked like Aunt Lily. There was an immediate bond there; and it would be really cool if she could teach me some of her moves. I said "I'm Micki like Mouse" - she said "I'm Shirley like Temple". Her friend said "I'm Mary" and I said "like the virgin".

They were still laughing when I left.