If you missed the previous installments, I went to a party at a dinner club with a bunch of 48-year-olds. Women who did not want me when I was eight had not changed their minds.
One highlight of the evening was that I talked to two girls who had grown up on my street. As we reminisced, I my mind drifted somewhat from the conversation as I noticed how those little girls had become strikingly beautiful women. My attention was snapped back to the conversation when one of them squealed “We used to fight over who would get to marry you!” Though their rivalry–and their desires–had long since subsided, it was good to know that when I was six, I had something going on. I then remembered a game of “I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours” in the woods behind my house, though I thought it better not to bring it up, as I would not want to crush the feelings of the one who had not been invited. Later, in the safe disconnectedness that is Facebook chat, I mentioned our little game to the other player. She claimed to have no memory of disrobing in my presence. She remembered the plans for marriage; I remembered the nudity. I guess that is how we were different.
I ran into a friend whom I had not known well in high school, but had been my roommate in college. It was great to see him and meet his beautiful new wife.
As the evening got later, I asked the bartender for a glass of ice, which I surreptitiously filled my flask, mostly because I could. Well, that, and I like Scotch. Well, that and paying $9 for a splash of Scotch seemed silly.
For a few minutes in the evening, I made a half-hearted attempt at playing photographer. I got a few good ones, but in retrospect I wish that I had made a more concerted effort to intentionally take pictures for, 15 or 30 minutes. I am becoming a decent photographer. It would have been fun to see what I could have done had I tried a bit harder and whether that is something that I might one day want to do for money. I posted twenty-five or so photos to the Facebook group (if you are in my class and not a member of the Facebook group and would like to see them, send me an email). I would rather have had more better pictures.
Before I knew it, the place was closing down. The bartenders disassembled their stations. The lights came up. The staff was actively trying to clear us out. I prolonged my stay by helping tote all of the centerpieces and other decorations out to the valet parking area. A group of us decided on a bar that was on the way home. I got a ride from the valet area to where I had parked Walden. I was glad for that, too, as I am not sure I could have found my way.
I loaded in to Walden and headed to the bar.