Date With Brenda

Against my better judgment (sometimes, I only think with one part of my body), I asked my foxy co-worker, Brenda, out on a date. Maybe it was just to assuage my old-man ego – I honestly don’t know. I mean, I had contemplated it in the past, but had never put those plans into action. My mental masturbation skills concerning her were legendary but I now found myself wondering what it would really be like to go out with the “princess of the warehouse”. So, on this particular day, I gathered up my courage (and the courage of everyone else sitting at my table) and approached Brenda. I wore my most seductive smile (the same one that had convinced Thea to go out with me) and I walked – no strutted – my way into her life.

“Brenda?”

“Oh, hi Barry.”

“It’s Bruce.”

“Oh, yeah – Bruce…so, how’s it goin’?” It was going good ‘till you fucked up my name…

“I wondered if you were busy Friday night. Maybe we could take in a movie or something. My treat.” See, chicks dig when you offer to buy.

“What about we go Dutch?” Oh – an enlightened chick! She is woman, hear her roar…

“Okay. Sounds cool.” I carefully picked my ego up off the floor. I hoped no one noticed. “Can I get your address, so I can pick you up?”

“How about we just meet there.” Enlightened and a ball-breaker. Great…

“Sounds like a plan.” I mouthed the words but I don’t know if they actually made any sounds. Everything started to get real blurry, as if I was trying to see through a mountain of clouds. Through this foggy haze I noticed that while the other ladies at Brenda’s table were staring man-hating daggers at me (none missed) the object of my desire didn’t look up from her phone. I could’ve been any Tom, Dick, Harry or Wheelchair Bill. We were probably all one and the same to her and I’m guessing that she agreed to our date just to shut us all up. Kill a bunch of old buzzards with one stone. How romantic…

I hadn’t spent this much time getting ready for a date since, well, never... This date had important ramifications. I was representing past-their-prime men all over the world. Bruce Lewis would prove that there was still some piss and vinegar in these aching bones! I would give hope to all men who feel their yesterdays fading away, only to be replaced with old-man sweaters and start and stop urine streams. I would comprehensively show Brenda and womankind that I still had what it takes to lay my fifty-year old charms and arthritic limbs atop her twenty years younger spirit and overall good health.

I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. I was old but serviceable. I could give the impression that I was running on six cylinders when I was lucky to walk on four. I doubt if Brenda would even know the difference nor would she care. She was simply doing her duty, which was to send my wayward spirit hurtling back down to earth. It happened to all men past forty – the younger (sometimes much younger) woman reminds us that we’re no longer fit and virile. The descent was bound to be a pretty painful one but I was determined to see it through. I had to learn the hard way, ‘cause I’m a man. We have to get beat over the head with the unfortunate truth and it’s never a painless endeavor. ‘Tis the way of the world.

I got to the movie theater in record time – it’s as if my fellow drivers knew I was on the way to my demise and wanted to help speed the process along. I made every light and my car seemed to float on air. I didn’t play any music on my sojourn, which was something I usually did. I needed the silence to ponder what I might say and what moves I might make. Dating had now become a game of choreographed senility, whereas in my younger days, I never needed to rehearse a move. Now in my mind, I was second-guessing everything. Welcome to Fifty, bitch…

“You look really nice.” And she really did – Brenda was hotter on her worst day than most women were on their best days. Mortals…

“Thanks.” Good thing I didn’t expect a compliment in return. I’d probably still be waiting.

“So…what do you wanna see?” I didn’t care what movie Brenda chose. I would be focusing all my attention on her.

“Actually, I don’t really go to the movies all that much. My friends and I usually go out to clubs.”

“Okay. Let’s go to a club.” I was nothing if not a trouper.

“You sure? I mean, you’re…” Old, are you trying to say I’m old?

“Of course I’m sure,” I said, defiantly, cutting her off before she could harbor any second thoughts about our coupling. To her, it was an obligation. To me, we were on a date. A date that wasn’t getting off to the best of starts…

“You think they might ID me?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, puzzled. That was my feeble attempt at a joke, Brenda. Get with the program…

“Let’s go. You lead the way.” I was an obedient, albeit crippled, dog, though I hoped I would be the master of her domain later on. A little dirty, I know but that’s all I got. Let me have some fun…

“Wanna dance?”

We had arrived at the club. It was a new state-of-the art one that had recently opened in a nearby beach town. It put our old crusty cow of a so-called club to shame. And I must admit, the scene was electrifying - the beat was pulsing, the bodies were glistening and my bones were aching. The trip from the movie theater to the nightclub had taken what was left of my energy. I was completely drained. All I required at that moment was a pair of pajamas and a nightcap – warm milk, preferably. Brenda, though, was having the time of her life. She was in her element and I was more than twenty years removed from mine.

“No, I’m good. Go have fun.” I meant it, too. Between the non-conversation in the car and the supreme lack of chemistry between us, I had begun to slowly realize that this night was already a bust. It was probably the quickest thing I had done all week.

And boy, did Brenda have fun - she danced with seemingly every person, male and female, who dared to venture into her lair. She was hot, smoking hot and she knew it. She had shown only a hint of this power at work - to see her in full bloom was a sight to behold. I couldn’t handle her on my best day and that day occurred a couple of decades earlier… Bodacious Brenda was now and I was then.

Since I had asked her out, I had been unsure of everything – what to wear, what to say, how to act with a woman young enough to be my daughter… And now at that moment, watching Brenda grind her latest dance partner to fine dust before my eyes, I was confident of one thing - I would not be taking Brenda home tonight.

“I think I’m gonna go.”

“Okay.” That Brenda – she sure has a way with words…

“Guess I’ll see you at work.” Brenda didn’t respond; in fact, she never looked in my direction. That was the most attention she paid to me all night.

As I exited out the front door of the nightclub, I turned and looked around at the dancing fools and fool-ettes. No one knew who I was, where’d I been or what I was about. No one cared. They were in party mode and that was that. I had been delusional to think I had the slightest shot at Brenda and her like. I was old news, yesterday’s throwaway. I didn’t matter in their world. It hurt at this realization and it hurt even more when the door attendant closed the door in my face.

I drove in silence all the way home (I’m sure if I had turned on the radio, ‘70’s sad sack classic, “All By Myself” would be playing on every station, a fitting obituary/post mortem to my Brenda seduction fantasy) and pondered my immediate future – a warm glass of milk, a soft pillow and my portable bedroom heater. Those were good thoughts and they made me feel a bit better. I even managed a half-smile. At least I could try and convince myself (and my ego) that the evening had some kind of a bright spot. I guess ‘ya gotta take the victories, no matter how small, whenever and wherever you can get them.