I was looking for the perfect location for a nice evening of breezy chatter, laughs, and a few drinks. I looked up “clubs, Boston” on the internet, and what comes up first, but ….the Wonder Bar! From the website it appeared to be a very upscale and eclectic grotto.
Angie and I arrived first at the Wonder Bar. In retrospect I could only have screwed up worse if I told everybody we were going to hang out at the local juvenile detention center. I figure the name of that place comes from people’s experience visiting there. As in “Boy, I wonder what the fuck I am doing in this bar.”
What we saw when we got there was…. a beer hall. Overrun by a group of about 200 college students wearing ridiculous plastic Viking helmets, jostling around in a mass drunken stupor singing who knows what song to a blaring sound track.
No word of exaggeration, the decibel level was about 120. As we stood out on the sidewalk looking in, I thought to myself “you have got to be kidding me……”. The bouncer looked up and down at Eve and me with a cocked eyebrow. He was probably wondering if we where coming to rob the cradle.
I said to the bouncer, “Need ID?” He rolled his eyes, waved his hand in a right-this-way flourish and replied, “Go right on in Homer”. As I passed him I asked “Is the downstairs open?” The club’s website advertised what was supposed to be a very cool and cozy private lounge. So I turned to Angie, who was looking profoundly dubious at the goings-on inside, and said “let’s go downstairs.”
I should have known. The place was empty and the music was blaring to no one at a 150 decibels. I thought “I’ve really fucked up”. Eve and I looked at each other and agreed by pantomime to at least buy one round. It took several attempts to get the young lady tending bar to understand our order.
After about ten minutes Angie and I were back out on the sidewalk. I called Gloria and Danny on their cell phone to tell them the bad news. They had bad news too. They were lost on the wrong side of Boston. So we waited and got an unexpected opportunity to review all the drunk college kids stumbling by on a great big bar crawl sponsored by several watering holes in the neighborhood.
Ninety minutes later Angie and I greeted Gloria and Danny outside the Wonder Bar. I explained the situation. They took it in good humor. I asked them if they wouldn’t mind stepping into the little restaurant next door. “Sure no problem.” Once inside I ordered a round of….beer. The place did not serve mixed drinks. We sat down together at a table for four and began trying to get out of the “awkward” and into the “relaxed” mode. Everybody began to loosen up and conversation segued to a few shared stories and some laughs. I thought, “ok, at least were having a pleasant time.” But conversation started to stall after about an hour and I had time to review the situation in my mind.
Angie came dressed in a nice but not overly flashy pink tunic over dress jeans and low pumps. I wore a polo shirt with cream colored slacks and dress loafers. Gloria came wearing very tight but nicely fitted and faded jeans, and a white halter top that allowed a view of her décolletage… every bit as alluring as Eve’s. But I bet her backside was her best feature.
Danny came in carpenter’s work boots, jeans, a black pull over tee-shirt, and a cell phone clipped to his belt from which he took a couple of calls. Hmmm, I thought, “note to self: different levels of expectation…”
The story of our evening is tedious and even a little humiliating given some other things that occurred, so I will not go into every detail. Suffice to say we left that little restaurant….because they were closing at 10:30…on a Saturday night… and tried two other places. All with the same result: lots of drunks and blaring music. Not knowing anything about the local neighborhood, and knowing it would take about an hour for each party to navigate out of the area, we called it a night and said our goodbyes with pecks on the cheeks by 11:30.
The bad choice of venue notwithstanding, we were able to at least enjoy each other’s company on a superficial level for a little while. They were very nice people, but I know they felt the lack of connection we felt. I like to think we were no less attractive on a physical level to them as they were to us, and that appearance wasn’t an underlying issue, even though Angie wasn’t overly wowed by Danny. But as I look back on that evening, and after a couple of conversations with Angie about the experience, it is clear to me that mutual expectations with strangers under these circumstance are no different from most any other circumstance: people are more likely to align and attract one another, after the first five minutes, if there is a common ground based on a lot of things NOT having to do with the possibility of a “physical” end game. The common ground that was needed with Gloria and Danny was not one thing, but faceted in the complexities of socio-economic, educational, and even professional background and experiences. We all knew things weren’t going any further. Angie and I sincerely wish them good luck in finding the right friends to play with next time.
I said to the bouncer, “Need ID?” He rolled his eyes, waved his hand in a right-this-way flourish and replied, “Go right on in Homer”. As I passed him I asked “Is the downstairs open?” The club’s website advertised what was supposed to be a very cool and cozy private lounge. So I turned to Angie, who was looking profoundly dubious at the goings-on inside, and said “let’s go downstairs.”
I should have known. The place was empty and the music was blaring to no one at a 150 decibels. I thought “I’ve really fucked up”. Eve and I looked at each other and agreed by pantomime to at least buy one round. It took several attempts to get the young lady tending bar to understand our order.
After about ten minutes Angie and I were back out on the sidewalk. I called Gloria and Danny on their cell phone to tell them the bad news. They had bad news too. They were lost on the wrong side of Boston. So we waited and got an unexpected opportunity to review all the drunk college kids stumbling by on a great big bar crawl sponsored by several watering holes in the neighborhood.
Ninety minutes later Angie and I greeted Gloria and Danny outside the Wonder Bar. I explained the situation. They took it in good humor. I asked them if they wouldn’t mind stepping into the little restaurant next door. “Sure no problem.” Once inside I ordered a round of….beer. The place did not serve mixed drinks. We sat down together at a table for four and began trying to get out of the “awkward” and into the “relaxed” mode. Everybody began to loosen up and conversation segued to a few shared stories and some laughs. I thought, “ok, at least were having a pleasant time.” But conversation started to stall after about an hour and I had time to review the situation in my mind.
Angie came dressed in a nice but not overly flashy pink tunic over dress jeans and low pumps. I wore a polo shirt with cream colored slacks and dress loafers. Gloria came wearing very tight but nicely fitted and faded jeans, and a white halter top that allowed a view of her décolletage… every bit as alluring as Eve’s. But I bet her backside was her best feature.
Danny came in carpenter’s work boots, jeans, a black pull over tee-shirt, and a cell phone clipped to his belt from which he took a couple of calls. Hmmm, I thought, “note to self: different levels of expectation…”The story of our evening is tedious and even a little humiliating given some other things that occurred, so I will not go into every detail. Suffice to say we left that little restaurant….because they were closing at 10:30…on a Saturday night… and tried two other places. All with the same result: lots of drunks and blaring music. Not knowing anything about the local neighborhood, and knowing it would take about an hour for each party to navigate out of the area, we called it a night and said our goodbyes with pecks on the cheeks by 11:30.
The bad choice of venue notwithstanding, we were able to at least enjoy each other’s company on a superficial level for a little while. They were very nice people, but I know they felt the lack of connection we felt. I like to think we were no less attractive on a physical level to them as they were to us, and that appearance wasn’t an underlying issue, even though Angie wasn’t overly wowed by Danny. But as I look back on that evening, and after a couple of conversations with Angie about the experience, it is clear to me that mutual expectations with strangers under these circumstance are no different from most any other circumstance: people are more likely to align and attract one another, after the first five minutes, if there is a common ground based on a lot of things NOT having to do with the possibility of a “physical” end game. The common ground that was needed with Gloria and Danny was not one thing, but faceted in the complexities of socio-economic, educational, and even professional background and experiences. We all knew things weren’t going any further. Angie and I sincerely wish them good luck in finding the right friends to play with next time.
We are wiser now. We will spend more time vetting potential playmates through the email and phone call stages. And if Angie deigns to allow me again to choose the meeting place next time, I will pick some place I know….like Johnny D’s (ohhhh yeah).
Speaking of new venues Angie and I have discovered the existence of a club, actually two clubs that are part of a swingers scene on the Massachusetts/New Hampshire border near the coast, called Sinz.
We are very intrigued, and have through an internet networking site connected to Sinz called Moresomes.net, been introduced to a lot of couples seeking the same thing. AND they are LOCAL. No more winks and flirts from somebody in Andalucia, Spain, or Kuttawa, Kentucky. Distance DOES matter. Even if things did hit off with Gloria and Danny, we would have had a lot of trouble trying to get together without planning hotel accommodations every time. Not being able to host at home is a logistic that must be factored in with long distance relationships.
2 comments:
Meeting folks, and we have met folk thru AFF, is such a crapshoot. I'm no expert, but I'd guess the odds are heavily stacked against success, and heavily stacked in favor of calamity. Lovely post on the absurdity of it all.
Happy hunting!
Thanks for the feedback VSKW.
Yeah, the odds are stacked against success particualrly if the couple is over 40.
It is interesting to note that most of the profiles show pictures of the women, and very little of the men, which speaks to the fact, I think, that mostly men surf AFF. And rarely do we see photos of couples together in a nice G-rated portrait. If anything, it close ups of genitalia.
I think many just want to expose themselves for the narcisstic thrill, or are just photo collectors.
We're going to let the membership run its course and then we won't go back.
Besides things are heating up between Eve and Wilson, and Wilson is also going to introduce us to another couple he knows. Then there is this couple near us who are known to be a "playful" team.
We are actually all getting together for drinks at a new restaurant in town this evening.
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