Never Satisfied: Do Men Know What They Want? (34 page)

“Monica, you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

“No, go right ahead.”

“Why do you put up with Raymond’s B.S. when you could have any man you want.”

“To be honest with you Denise, sometimes I don’t know myself. I guess I don’t have the patience to train another man. Raymond may be a dog, but he’s my dog, and he’s predictable.”

“That’s so unfair!” April asserted. “Men can sleep around with all the women they want, but let a man look sideways at their wife or girlfriend and all hell will break loose.”

“That’s because men know they have women right where they want them, especially black men,” I said. “I recently read a study which stated seventy percent of black males are unavailable.”

“Unavailable meaning what?” April asked.

“Unavailable to the heterosexual black female for a relationship, that’s what.”

“To hell with that survey, I think it’s more like ninety percent. These men out here are a total disaster!” Monica laughed. “Either they’re locked up, doped up, unemployed, under employed, married, homosexual, or just too damned ugly to look at.”

April laughed so hard she nearly spit her drink out. Her face got all red, and tears started streaming down the side of her face. For a minute I thought she was choking to death, but she was all right.

“Girl, are you trying to kill me?” April said after composing herself. “Don’t ever say anything that damned funny while I’m trying to swallow.”

But it’s the truth, and you both know it. Look at our men for example. All of them are good looking, have good paying jobs, and are surrounded by hundreds of skeezers everyday. And you know they’re the biggest skeezer pleaser in town.”

“You may be right, but I know how to put Tony’s ass in check.” April said.

“And how’s that, may I ask?”

I’ll just go on strike. No cooking, no laundry, and definitely no pussy.”

“Well I’ve got my own methods for getting Raymond to behave. My Louisiana friend at work taught me a little voodoo. She told me to get one of his pictures, cut the head off, and place it face up in the crotch of my panties.”

“And what’s that supposed to do?” I asked.

“I don’t exactly know, but the first two weeks I tried it, Raymond was wearing my thighs like ear muffs every morning.”

“Stop fooling around Monica, this is serious,” I said.

“Ok then. Why have you put up with old bucktooth, big nose, two timing Kevin for the last three years? He must have a gold plated dick to keep you coming back after all the hell he’s put you through.”

“With me, I think it’s a matter of how I feel about myself. Kevin has been telling me for so long that nobody else would ever want me that I actually started believing him. When we first met, he would compliment me on my figure and my outfits. Now, all of a sudden I’m showing too much cleavage, or, I’m getting too fat. I think he’s just trying to lower my self-esteem so he can control me.”

“Ok, that’s enough of this depressing conversation,” Monica said as she reached inside her purse. “I’ve got something for you to read and then we’re out of here.”

“What is it?” April asked.

“It’s an office joke being faxed around town.”

She pulled out two pieces of paper with large typing on it and handed it to us. It read:

MENopause

MENstrual cramps

MENtal illness

MENtal breakdown

Ever notice how all our problems begin with men?

After getting a good laugh and a spirit boost, we freshened up and were on our way. It was 10:00 p.m. and way past all our bed times, but the conversation and the alcohol had us hyped. As we drove the few blocks to the club side by side, I rolled down my window and rowdily shouted, “Look out men, here we come!”

It had been several months since any of us had been out on the club scene. The music sounded louder and the men were more attractive than I remembered. We tried our best not to look uncomfortable or unfamiliar with the surroundings, but men can sniff out new meat like bloodhounds. As we strutted past all the jealous looks and turned up noses, it was obvious things hadn’t changed much.

Women still spend most of their time checking out each other. After finding a table and getting ourselves situated, we began scoping the place out for good prospects. Right away I saw a gentleman who was just my type, tall, dark, and most importantly, alone. When I tried to make a seductive gesture to get his attention, the guy next to him thought I was flirting with him.

“I saw that,” Monica said. “You got the wrong one, didn’t you?”

“Damn, and here he comes,” I said under my breath. Like a snake crawling out from under a rock this Jerry baldheaded midget slithered through the crowd towards our table. I turned my back to discourage his approach, but it was too late.

“Excuse me Ms. Lady,” he said while tapping me on the shoulder. “My name is Lenny.”

“Hi Lenny, I said trying not to choke from the smell of his cheap cologne.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

“No thank you, I’m waiting for my boyfriend.”

“Well baby, if you change your mind, remember I’m Lenny and I’ve got plenty.”

As he walked away he looked back and smiled at me with that annoying gold tooth protruding halfway out of his mouth. April busted him out the minute he was out of hearing distance.

“Hell naw, no he didn’t say he was Lenny with plenty. He needs to quit with his countrified, fake Isaac Hayes lookin’ ass.”

Monica was bent over in her chair crackin’ up. She had to put both hands over her mouth to keep from laughing in his face. And who could blame her? Some of the lines you hear are so weak you’ve got to laugh to keep from crying.

“Lord, I need a drink,” Monica said as she wiped her face with a Kleenex.

No sooner did she say that than the waitress arrived at the table with anonymous drink offers. We all accepted and ordered our usual, double shots of cognac. After receiving the drinks we sat up straight on our stools and waited for the man or men who paid the tab to make the next move. Please lord, don’t be another clown like that last one, I was thinking.

“Whoever paid for this Martel better get over here in a hurry,” April said.

“Why is that?” I asked.

“Because this drink is like an hourglass. Once it’s empty, his time is up.”

Right on cue, two fine looking men walked up to the table. One of them was light skinned, with a stocky build. And the other, who just happened to be the man I was trying to flirt with earlier, was slim with hazel eyes and tight buns. Mmm, Mmm, good.

“Hello ladies,” the slim one said, “my name is Lawrence; this is my partner Dexter. Mind if we join you?”

“Hell no! I mean, be my guest,” I said enthusiastically. “My name is Denise; this is April, and the tall beautiful one over there is Monica.”

“I hope you’re enjoying your drink,” Dexter said as he purposely looked in April’s direction.

“Yes, I am. Thank you very much.”

“What about you, Denise?” Lawrence flirtatiously inquired.

‘You’re fine, I mean it’s fine, thank you.”

It didn’t take long to tell that April and I had been chosen. Monica was the odd man out this time, which didn’t happen all that often. Not surprisingly, she took the opportunity to make light of the situation.

“So what am I some kind of charity case?” Monica joked.

“Oh no sweetheart, that’s not it at all. I just figured a woman with your height would prefer a taller man,” Lawrence apologetically explained.

“You’re right about that, sweetheart. So do you have any friends who are 6’5”’ and over?”

“As a matter of fact I do, but unfortunately they’re not here tonight.”

“Oh well, be sure to tell them what they missed.”

Monica was ready to party, but nobody would ask her to dance. The men were obviously intimidated by her beauty and height. For some reason it seemed as if all the men in the club were less than six feet that night. April joked with her saying. “Didn’t you know this was six foot and under get in free night?” Finally, after several good songs played, a cute guy who was about 5’2” asked her to dance. At that point, all she needed was an escort out onto the floor; after that he could drop-dead. The minute she hit the floor, she started showing off. Her nieces had just taught her how to do a new dance and she was giving lessons. Oh yes, Monica could dance her ass off.

April and I were waiting for the DJ to play a Steppers song. We were completely out of practice on the latest dances, but Steppin’ was smooth and simple. It’s like riding a bike; once you learn, you never forget. For those of you who don’t know what Steppin’ is, ask someone from Chicago or the Midwest. In some cities it’s called Bopping, Ballroom, The Hustle, Swinging Out, or Hand Dancing. But nobody does it better than we do in Chitown, nobody. As I was saying, we were too far behind the latest dances to go out there and embarrass ourselves, but that didn’t stop Monica. She was having a ball and showing her age. While the entire crowd was swaying back and forth to the rhythm shouting, “Hey Ho, Hey Ho,” Monica’s old ass was yelling, “The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire.” It was apparent that she was a little tipsy and out of party practice.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the DJ played a couple of Steppin’ records, Forevermore by Anthony David and Algebra, and a classic steppers cut, Imagine This by Mike James. We quickly assigned Monica to purse-watching duty and slid onto the floor. April and I were shocked to discover that both Dexter and Lawrence could really throw down. They were shuffling and turning so precisely you would have sworn the practiced all their moves together. I was impressed, and so was April. When the songs ended, we returned to the table laughing and joking like old friends, I was really having a great time. For the next two hours we were pampered and flattered more than we had been in years. Kevin, Tony, and Raymond were distant memories, or so I thought.

I didn’t notice right away, but Monica was running back and forth to the bathroom every ten to fifteen minutes. I just figured she either had a weak bladder or was checking somebody out. Then it dawned on me she was making a booty call to Raymond. I was sure of it. Why else is she peeking inside her purse to see if anyone is calling her cell at 1:00 a.m.? I thought to myself. My suspicions were confirmed when she pulled me aside and told me she had to leave.

“Denise, I hate to be a party pooper, but I’ve got to go.”

“I don’t believe you Monica,” I said with disappointment. “You just caught Raymond fucking somebody yesterday and you’re running back to him today, and at 1:00 a.m. in the morning.”

“You don’t understand girlfriend. Raymond just needs his space every now and then. And just like I told you, I’ve invested too much time into training him.”

“You’re the one who’s trained Monica, or should I say dick whipped?”

“Look, I don’t have time for this right now. Tell April I’ll talk to her later, bye.”

She kissed me on the cheek and shot out the door like her house was on fire, or should I say her pussy? All I could do was shake my head while walking back to the table. For the very first time, I realized just how pitiful I must have sounded trying to defend Kevin all those years. This was too deep. My mind was reeling; how do women allow themselves to become so caught up? I was thinking. Needless to say, my night was ruined. I asked Lawrence for his number, gave him a hug, and went home with plenty to think about. April was enjoying herself and decided to stay a while longer. She was flying out of town the next afternoon and wanted to make the most of it. I didn’t blame her one bit. Dexter was cute, fun to be around, and a perfect gentlemen.

First thing Monday morning, I called my job and requested a week’s vacation. During the next few days, I didn’t talk to anyone. I switched off my cell phone and didn’t open my e-mails. I needed time for myself. Every morning at 7:00 a.m., I got up and went to the gym for a heavy workout and swim. I even treated myself to a nice dinner a few nights just to celebrate being me. But what I enjoyed most was taking steamy hot bubble baths by candlelight. Yes, I was really beginning to feel good about myself; for the first time in a long time I made myself top priority.

By Friday afternoon, I was ready to return my calls, which had piled up considerably over the last five days. I quickly fast-forwarded past the telemarketers and annoying family members. The remaining messages were truly shocking.

(Beep) “Denise, this is Monica,” she said sounding depressed. “I just got back from seeing my doctor. He told me I had Herpes. I’m too old for this shit! Raymond has got to go! Please call me as soon as possible, bye”

(Beep) “Denise if you’re there pick up; this is April. Oh well, I guess you’ve heard the bad news by now. Poor Monica, when will she ever learn? Anyway, I have some great news myself. I’m flying to Nassau for the weekend. No, not with Tony; I’m going with Dexter Saint Jock,” she laughed. “I had a couple of tickets lying around that my neglectful husband was too busy to use. Now, I know what you’re thinking; two wrongs don’t make a right but it damn sure makes it even. Call you when I get back, bye girl!”