The Country Club

I had gotten the invitation in the mail, it was on Saturday. I tossed it on my desk and didn’t give it much thought. I went on about my week and soon it was the weekend again. What a life I lead, I thought to myself. I had been in my condo for 4 months since taking a job in Southern California as an applications engineer. I had been so busy and pouring myself into my job, that I had neglected my place. I took the time for a reality check and didn’t like what I saw. I decided to spend the day cleaning up and making my humble abode presentable. I went through the kitchen, cleaned out the refrigerator, took care of all of the dishes, wiped things up, mopped and pretty much had it done in an hour.

I moved on to the living room, not much clutter there, but the den/computer room was a mess. I tended to spend too much surfing the web. I paid bills as they came in; I was making more money than I ever had, so I paid things on time to keep the creditors off of my ass. I threw away papers and empty envelopes and junk mail. I was going through the pile by my keyboard when I came across the invitation again. It had been lying there, unopened, for a week. I took a serious look at it this time. It was an RSVP mixer at a local country club, Membership drive…Mostly for young professional people. It had a deadline for reserving a place by 3 p.m. that day. It was 2:30, so, as with everything else, I called at the last minute and made plans to attend that evening. They had obviously gotten my name from a list of new arrivals to the area, I thought I would at least go and see what it was about. I had not had a date, or any interest for that matter, since my divorce. If I had needs, I tended to deal with them as they came up, not wanting to complicate things anymore than necessary. I really didn’t expect this outing to amount to much.

I got cleaned up and dressed casual in some Dockers and a golf shirt, looked pretty decent. I hadn’t been eating much so I had lost weight and riding my bike to work had gotten me back into some semblance of shape. I jumped into my Miata and headed out there, referring to the map on the back of the invitation.

When I arrived, there was an attendant at the gate; he took my invitation, marked something in a book, told me where to park, and how to get into the clubhouse. As I was driving in I could see by the fading sunlight that this place was pretty extensive, Golf course, Tennis, Racquetball, Swimming pool, sauna, hot tub, the works. I went into the clubhouse and made my way to the lounge. I frowned when I noticed the majority of the people were ten years my junior, they pretty much ignored me. I saw a couple of guys I worked with, they were already bird-dogging the hottest looking chicks in the place, “the little head thinking for the big one”. I thought to myself. The girls seemed annoyed and pretty much ignored these guys. I chuckled to myself. Dolts, if they learned how to treat a lady and acted half disinterested, the women would flock to them. I wandered around and was relatively bored. I took in the Billiards room; they even had a small casino with slot machines, which were illegal, but nobody seemed to pay any attention to that fact. Someone was lining the pockets of local law enforcement, that much was obvious. There was even an Internet room where a few people were mindlessly surfing the web; some surfing Porn sites… Mostly young guys. one butch looking girl was on a lesbian site.. Figures, I thought to myself. Probably hoping another Lezzie would see what she was doing and hit on her. I laughed when I saw the name of the site, “Dykes of Hazzard” “Danger, curves ahead.” There was a Banner graphic of 2 butch women in an Orange Dodge Charger with a brown triangle on the roof.

I was almost through with my first drink, a blended Margarita, so I decided to head back to the bar for one more. I was figuring this was a bust, I’d have another drink and then head home, at least the Condo was clean now. I sat at the bar and turned in my glass for a fresh drink, I turned and surveyed the area, mostly young professionals discussing how much they supposedly made, some were discussing their new cars or a new program they were writing.