3/11/2021
Spring is approaching. The weather has been warming up, flowers blooming, birds singing and love in the air.
But, sadly, there's been no loving for me. It was yet another lonely Valentine's Day.
Gotta say I'm getting fed up with being single.
Tonight, I was having drinks at my favorite hole-in-the-wall bar with my buddy Earl, who, like me, had been single awhile.
Or so I thought.
"Man, there's no babes in here tonight. Hardly any ladies to be found. This place is dead." I bemoaned, swigging my suds, panning around the wasteland of a bar.
"It was always a dump, this bar, but it used to have people in it, besides us, and them," I grumbled, nudging my bottle over to the bitchy princess triumvirate, opposite side of the dreary room.
"There used to be smoke-shows. 10s, 9s, at worse, 6s and 7s and, okay, yes, even 4s or 5s, which I'd still take home if I were shit-faced enough. Now look around...Place is a ghost town..."
Earl wasn't too stressed, peered up from his tablet with a sly grin, replied, "Everyone is on Tinder now. You should try it."
"I'm on Tinder. I had a few dates, but I've never been too into online dating. I got catfished by something awful the other week. Should have seen the choppers on this girl. Could put a dentist's kid through college with the work those things needed. Fucking Photoshop. I hate Tinder."
"Alright, then go over to that busty blonde in the cutoffs, with the thick thighs, over by the jukebox. I dare you."
Glass of gin in hand, Earl's pinky twitched at the saucy blonde who came to this bar weekly. The D-Cup Princess had shot both him and me down. Two or three times.
"You want her to file a restraining order on me. You fuck." I raged, swerving back his way. I was ready to punch him. For real.
Sick bastard was always breaking balls. He had a lot of nerve. He loved playing practical jokes. We had a joke war that went nuclear, cling-wrap on each other's toilets, fake personal ads on dating sites. Pretty much nothing was impossible or off-limits with Earl.
But what he told me next, now THAT, that blew my mind. That I never, in a trillion years, was expecting him to say.
"I'm seeing someone. We've been together for a long time, actually, but it got physical the last couple weeks." Earl told me, like a sinner in the confession booth, his face tomato red.
Not once had I seen him embarrassed, not this guy. This was new territory.
"She's, much older than me." Earl couldn't look me in the eyes as he spoke. His head pointed at the bar's grimy hardwood floor.
"This is why you wanted to have drinks tonight? Not to vent about work or chase tail, but because you wanted to confess. You're fucking a cougar, you bastard!" I began to laugh uproariously, nearly hyperventilating.
Sure, I had seen MILFs, sexy older ladies. Jennifer Aniston, that's a mature lady I'd bang, for sure, but Earl and me only really dated girls around our own age, mid to late 20s. Neither he nor I had been with an older lady. Until now.
Earl, usually a comedian, had a cold face when I laughed at him.
"Come on, bro. I'm not hating. I'm just saying. It is, you know, un-, unusual. Nothing wrong with it." I told him, catching my breath, and striking a more conciliatory tone, pursing my lips.
"Watch what you say and how you talk about her."
His tone was stern. His face was dour.
"Chill out. I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting it. That's all. If you're in love with her, or it's serious, I respect that."
"I definitely love her. But the whole thing is complicated."
He was rubbing his forehead. Then he slugged down the rest of his gin in a mighty gulp.
I'd known him since college, almost 10 years. He'd had girlfriends, dumped, been dumped, but we, other friends together would pound drinks, find other fish in the sea. It wasn't ever so serious as this.
"Why? Why is it so complicated?" I inquired, my eyebrows upcurved.
"Because..." He was struggling to speak. "Look, you tell nobody about this. NOT ONE of our friends."
Fucking hell, he was getting strangely solemn but also pissed.
"Swear to me. On your honor. As my friend. As a man. You don't tell a soul."
"We've known each other forever. You're one of my best friends. Seriously. Whatever it is, Earl, bro, you can tell me. You know your secret is safe. Fucking spit it out!"
His voice quieted, and he leaned in, scouting around to see no one nearby could hear. He didn't have to worry much, though, because the place was practically abandoned. Not to mention how loud it was, that snobby blonde and her snobby friends blasting Marshmello and Chainsmokers EDM tunes from the jukebox.
"I'm having sex with my Mom." He confessed to me. His eyes deadpan to mine.
After telling me, he exhaled, a huge breath, like it'd been on his mind and was a 50-pound weight on his shoulders he'd just thrown off.
"You're what?" I exclaimed. I curled my upper lip and raised an eyebrow. Not even Earl had joked about such taboo subjects. But I wouldn't put it past him.
"Bro, if you're recording this. If this is another of your jokes. Then, you know, it might be- "
I was about to burst out laughing again but caught myself. He wasn't that good an actor. I'd played Poker with him. No, he was serious.
"You're serious, aren't you? You had sex with your- your Mom?"
I probably said that too loud. Earl's eyes darted about, and he placed his pointer finger to his lips and shushed me.
"Fuck! What? Why? How? I have no idea what to say. You two are grown, so, whatever, but it's not something I would think about. Okay, alright, don't deck me, but your Mom is, you know, a nice-looking lady. I know she was a B-movie actress or something, right? But, like, wow, how did, uh, that, happen?"
Earl's mood lightened up. I could see that talking about it was beneficial, therapeutic for him. Poor dude. Not many people he could talk with about this. Made me like him more, that he'd told me, I gotta say. This is bro talk of the highest magnitude.
Earl leaned in, his voice hushed, his eyes on fire and he began to recount his scandalous admission.
"She is hot. My Mom. Like, I always sorta thought that, but I had girlfriends, was chasing plenty of skirt, I didn't have too many thoughts of her, like that, until last month.
"She'd lost a fair deal of weight. She really was looking hot in this swimsuit, in my parents' backyard. I'd come home, and she was by herself, by the pool. My Dad was playing golf or some shit.
"She was all pissed off at my Dad, fucking boiling pissed, because he hadn't been paying much attention to her. She thinks he's having an affair. He'd also forgotten her birthday."
"So I tell her we should have a drink, I'll sit out by the pool with her, we can talk. Then we're drinking, hard, slamming shots of Japanese whisky, sake. My Mom is Japanese, you know, and I mean, she looks younger than her age.
"We're under this sun umbrella, and she starts crying. I go over to her lawn chair, to comfort her. She's crying on my shoulder, hugging me, quivering, and her bikini top, which I guess wasn't tied tight enough, falls off.
"Totally blitzed, she didn't realize it, but I did, even though I'm fucked up, I wasn't that fucked up, not as fucked up as her.
