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Unchaperoned (Bad Lines: Part Three)

November 17, 2008

The day’s heat staggered into evening. After decorating ourselves with bare arms, tall shoes, and cute handbags, we swept out the door and into a place a few blocks away, where we kicked off a bar-crawl that led downhill (geographically and physically). For all our talk about making it a wild night, we kept mostly to ourselves, and kept the swearing to a minimum.

And then, we declared the night ripe for dancing. Cha cha cha.

Rachel lost a shoe during the first song, and by the third, we’d drawn the attention of more than a few men who were there for one thing and one thing only. Or two things, depending whether Rachel and I agreed to a three-way, in which case they’d take both of us. Ugh.

It had been a long time since I was out with just another woman, no men as buffers, no gang of ladies as a force-field. Eventually, we were singled out by a rather dapper pair dressed like characters at a John Hughes semi-formal: fluffy hair, blousy shirts unbuttoned to the sternum, skinny leather belts with gold buckles, pants pleated in front.

We assumed these men were ironic; instead, they turned out to be Russian. In town for the weekend, looking for love, a long way from home.

“You ladies are doing what this weekend?” the more fluent one asked.

“Spending it together,” I replied, Rachel pulling me close, snuggling me tight.

“Perfect! We also are together this weekend! You maybe will be with us,” he added with a wink and a pelvic thrust. “We maybe will be kissing you all through tomorrow!”

Rachel drew me closer, nuzzled and petted my hair. Positioned herself a little in front, protecting her property from trespassers.

“No,” I said, “I mean we will be together. Like me and her…together,” drawing out the last word, nodding to Rachel, who smiled in a sweetly threatening way.

Silence. Some more silence. Then, clarity.

“Ahhhhhh,” he said, waving both palms at chest-height, sweeping away this dreadful mistake. “Like you will go home tonight and make sex on each other? We are so sorry!” He bowed, placed one hand on my shoulder, the other on Rachel’s. “You are lucky girls.”

No offer to come home and make sex on us while we made sex on each other. No lewd remarks, no insulting dismissals. And later, standing a few patrons away at the bar, the good manners to step in and pay for our next round. Saying sorry with gin. Paying for drinks we’d ordered rather than sending something over. Knowing we’d decline a pair of cocktails bought behind our backs and delivered with goodness knows what dropped inside.

My only hope is, they found ladies game for a weekend of “maybe kissing all through tomorrow.”

10 Comments leave one →
  1. looka permalink
    November 18, 2008 12:10 pm

    …. The world of M.A.N.

  2. Amanda permalink
    November 18, 2008 12:17 pm

    Oh just imagine! Maybe those Russian fellows were wearing the Official Uniform of M.A.N.!

    : )

  3. looka permalink
    November 18, 2008 1:23 pm

    Pretty much sure they where! It always amazes/terrifies to what doings people are able…

  4. Amanda permalink
    November 18, 2008 5:44 pm

    You know, Simon, if I could go back and write this story over again, I was give it the title “The Men From M.A.N.”


  5. Carrie permalink
    November 18, 2008 5:54 pm

    I too hope they found some women to make sex on. Also to tell them that in N America, pleated pants are a no-no!

  6. Amanda permalink
    November 18, 2008 6:07 pm

    They were really a perfect balance between men with manners the average North American man lacks, and manners that are really kinda unacceptable in North America. As for fashion, it was all a slippery slope. Rachel just reminded me that there was a third member in their group, who was wearing a wool turtleneck on a blasting-hot August night.

  7. looka permalink
    November 18, 2008 8:15 pm

    Hey thanks!

    Badly transcribed grey area manners and choice of apparel aside, I hope people find their mind and heartiness and more often before they find their clothes and mouths unzipped.

  8. amy permalink
    November 19, 2008 11:50 am

    make sex on — that is such a good way to put it.

  9. Amanda permalink
    November 19, 2008 11:53 am

    Amy, I heartily agree!

    And so does my friend Ruth’s partner, whom I have met only once…it was a day or two after the “make sex on” encounter and I couldn’t resist telling them the story.

    Apparently, from that moment onward, Ruth has had to contend with a boyfriend who asks if tonight, maybe he can make sex on her. He has decided to only use that phrase, forevermore.


  10. Marilla permalink
    November 24, 2008 8:26 pm

    I love it! How gentlemanly.

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