Of course there was another little holiday event we participated in over the weekend; Valentine's Day. As usual, I had a good weekend. Went to a party, met a lot of interesting new people, only found myself being annoyed by a single couple, and threw down a few beers. Well, maybe more than just a few, but why sweat the details right now.
I was just going to write about the Valentine's Day party I attended over the weekend, and the lust connection and proposal I recieved, and I will, but I had a funny experience that will instead take over this entry. But I'll get to that in a second.
I had two V-day parties to attend this weekend, I only made one of them. And I'm sad I didn't get to go to the second one, as it sounds like it was also a blast. I had a show to do Saturday night, but I was done early and went to the first party, fully intent on hitting the second party later in the evening. A friend I do improv with owns, or at least used to own a female-oriented sex shop on Broadway in Denver. He and his wife shuttered the doors this weekend and they threw a big party to celebrate and say goodbye. I went to this party knowing there would be a whole spectrum of partiers there, free beer, colorful outfits and lifestyles, all surrounded by dildoes and other sex toys.
I met some very interesting folks and here's what I really liked about it. It wasn't really a setting for singles to specifically meet new partners. If it happened, it happened. But mostly it was a just party to mourn the loss of another small business in Denver and to look forward to better things in the future.
I saw some things that, if I were a woman, would scare the hell out of me; "I'm not putting THAT inside me!", and had some very interesting conversations with some very fascinating people Somewhere along the way I was propositioned for a threesome. One woman, two men. Listen, I'm open minded. I'm even a bit of a perv. But I just can't go down that road. I was flattered, honored even, since the couple was very attractive, but I declined and went outside for a smoke. It wasn't the insane bash I envisioned with orgies taking place in the corner and people making out in candlelight, the sounds of "love" keeping rythm to the music. But it was fun.
The times they are-a-changin'
I've been to those types of parties. Mostly when I was younger, but a few even more recently. The funny thing is this; when I was younger, most of those types of parties were spontaneous and mostly alcohol fueled. Crazy college kids hooking up at the end of some beer bash. The more recent parties like that are more planned. Drugs are more prominent. Not the hard stuff, but the fun stuff like X and shrooms. There's wine, beer, mixed drinks, the usual. But the partiers are way more sophisticated than when I was younger. They are adults, they understand their sexuality much better that most of us did when we were in our early 20's. They KNOW why they're at the party. They want to experience deviance, they want to push their limits, they are there to satisfy urges.
Those parties are incredible. The most recent one I went to was a Halloween a few years ago and I don't think I enjoyed a party as much since then. Ask me someday and I might tell you about it in more detail. The point is this...as bachelors get older they become more focused on exactly what they're looking for. They know when something is a waste of time and simply don't expend their efforts on something or someone that doesn't meet certain requirements. In this sense, getting older as a bachelor is a lot of fun. I can say with certainty that the number of women I find attractive is much larger than it was ten years ago. It's not all just physical like it used to be. This is a good thing.
Particularly in today's age of the internet and social media, bachelors can always find a group of people that they connect with, thus focusing their search for fun or love, whichever they prefer, and in turn increasing their chances of success in finding what they're looking for.
The little shiny, multi-functional book:
On the other side of the spectrum is the young and vigorous bachelor. You know who I'm talking about. If it's a woman, we call them sluts or nympho's. If they're men, we call them "players". I don't think I was ever really a player. I used to date a lot more when I was younger than I do today, although I blame my lack of funding for today's drought. Anyway, I want to state for the record that I think these labels are patently unfair to the young, fun bachelors.
When you're young is EXACTLY the time when you should be a bachelor. Why tie yourelf down to a single individual when you really don't know what you're looking for anyway? Play the field, sample the wares, tour the factory, whatever you want to call it, being a bachelor at a young age is like going to school. You are always learning and growing and, unlike school, you're most likely having a great time while doing it. Plus, you get to meet a ton of different people along the way, people who may become close friends over time. Of course we know that most won't but still, you never really know.
All of this brings me to the holy grail for bachelors, "The Little Black Book." During the porn party on Saturday (my name, not theirs), the shop was selling literal black books. I've never had a real little black book. I had a bunch of pieces of paper that I'd get with names and numbers on them and I'd put them into a bowl in my room. Let me tell you, a hundred little pieces of paper is a real headache to sift through when you are looking for a date for a wedding or a late night hook up.
Today, of course, we all have cellphones that can easily be updated with name, phone number, email, etc. I have the pleasure of knowing two young bachelors, who you might call "players", and I discovered how today's youthful bachelors use their technology to increase their bachelor standing.
Here's something else I have to admit. I never had so many names and numbers that I had a problem remembering where I met a woman and when. Apparently, this is not true with todays active bachelor. Both young men are in their early 20's and go to dance clubs regularly. I've never been a dance club kind of guy. I meet women in other venues. But I digress, again. These two men are also very nice, very funny and attractive. In other words, they're "chick magnets". Thus, when they go out, they generally leave with two, three, twenty names and numbers. I don't know how many because I've never been with them at the clubs, although I am seriously considering going, if just to watch them work their magic. I'm sure it's a wonder to behold. And as they saying goes, you're never too old to learn.
One day last week, I was standing next to one of these men when they received a phone call. I caught the name. It was Mary Jet. I commented what a cool name that was. For a second, the bachelor in question looked at me with a blank stare, as if trying to comprehend what I had just said. Then, he broke into a full, loud laugh. I was confused. I really thought it was a cool name and didn't understand the meaning of the laughter.
"Her name isn't Mary Jet," he said between giggles. "Her name is Mary, and I met her at Jet." For those of you who don't know Denver, Jet is the name of a local club. Suddenly it made sense to me. He must have a hundred "Jet's" in his phone. So I asked him if I could see his phone list. He obliged me and I nearly had to sit down, the number of women listed was so breathtaking. There were "Jet's", "Blue's", "Front Porch's", etc. Hundreds of names. I was in the presence of greatness.
Now jump forward to Sunday night. I was doing a show with another one of these uber-bachelors. It just so happened that this one, we'll name him Sam, not his real name, by they way, had met two women while out on the town Saturday night. He convinced them to attend the show Sunday night. I saw them. They were very, very attractive and the entire show just seemed totally smitten by him. Of course, his goal for the night was to take them both home for a little "extracurricular" activity. Hey, I just report, I don't judge. And, frankly, I could only wish him luck, because if he succeeded in his achieving his goals, he is one lucky man.
Right after the show, while we were getting ready for notes, I told the story of the other bachelor and the mix up with the name "jet" and how the bachelor used the name to identify the woman in question. Without missing a beat, "Sam" turned around and said, "Oh, yeah, I do that. If I didn't, I couldn't keep my women straight."
I fought the urge to just stand up and applaud. Clearly, I was never in the same league as these gentlemen, but beyond that, I was impressed with their use of technology that simply wasn't available when I started on my Magical Mystery Tour of bachelorhood. I can say this with all honesty; I would have been greatly served by an iPhone when I was in my mid-20's. I knew too many Sarah's and too many Staceys and too many Melinda's and would get them mixed up all the time.
Maybe even with an iPhone, my natural unorganized tendencies would have still resulted in a botched phone call late at night. Either way, I know that being a bachelor has changed and the old exchange of numbers isn't what it used to be, and that's a good thing. Perhaps getting the name and number in a phone is a lot like collecting notches in a bedpost, but safer and saner. Sometimes a bachelor might not ever call that woman, or man.
But just having it in the phone is a testament to their prowess as a bachelor. It is an ego boost saying, "I was good enough to get them to give me their number." Plus, later on, if one of those women do call, there won't be any embarrassment of the bachelor trying desperately to figure out who the caller is on the other end of the line.
I used to know a guy when I was in college who would tape his old used condoms on his bedroom wall, yes, I know it's disgusting, but that's what he did. It was his way of showing the world that he was a bachelor in good standing, a player to be reckoned with.
Now, I ask you, isn't collecting names and numbers, complete with a note regarding where you met, MUCH better than condom taping? Don't answer that, it's rhetorical. In the end, the new little black book in a phone is a much better method to go about being a bachelor than it used to be, and for that, bachelors everywhere thank the technology gods.
Now, I only need to find some women to put in my iPhone.
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