Chapter 2: The Social Dinner Club (PG-13)

I stopped in my favorite little local bar one night after work to get a bite to eat and have a drink. As much as I hated to admit it, my next door neighbor and I had been in there enough times that the bartender knew me by name, and I was, indeed, considered a “regular.” I began chatting with a woman sitting at the bar that I’d never met before, but she was animated and fun to talk to. I guessed her to be about my age or a little older, and she, too, was divorced, although she wasn’t as “fresh” as I was to single life.

So I asked her, “How do you meet men?” She began telling me how her social calendar was filled with events that were sponsored by a social dinner club called “Square Hatter’s.” They had a membership fee, but you need not become a member to attend their events. Several times a month they organized and sponsored events all over Atlanta. These events could range from something as simple as “happy hour” at a trendy midtown place to something as elaborate as a week-long cruise in the Caribbean. I was intrigued – Tell me more.

She went on to explain that you usually had to buy tickets to an event, through their website, whether it was a movie premier, or a book discussion, or what have you. Paid members got their tickets for a discount, or even for free, depending on the event. The majority of the people who attended these events were 30 – 50 years old, single professionals, just looking to network with a variety of new people. There wasn’t a lot of pressure to date, and indeed, this woman had, many times, made connections with new girlfriends as much as she had with potential dates.

Well, this sounded perfect! You got all the benefits of having a wide variety of people in one place, without the exclusion the single people feel from being thrown into a sea of couples. And there wasn’t the anxiety of the unknown like there was when you meet someone online. This was something I needed to check out!

I looked at the Square Hatter’s February calendar and decided to attend their annual “Cupid Is Stupid” party at the W Hotel. It was tradition to wear black to this party in protest of the red holiday, and who doesn’t love dressing up in a sexy black outfit? I put on my favorite black top that showed off my ample bosom, my favorite black skirt that was long, and made of a crinkle material that tended to cling ever so slightly, but flowed and rippled around my legs with every movement, and my favorite black boots. Walking in to the hotel lobby alone, and I felt like I had landed on Mars. Make a bee-line for the bar, right? At such a swanky hotel, the drinks were about ten bucks. Okay, pace yourself on the drinks, unless someone else is buying them. I wandered around, trying to start idle chit-chat with people. I had no clue what to say, and I felt like an idiot. Occasionally, someone would approach me and offer to buy me a drink, but no one that made my heart go “pitter patter.” My failsafe social move is to join the smokers. At least we all have something in common, right? We’re all banned to the outside.

The social move worked. Well, it worked half way. I met two women out there that were fun, tipsy, and having a good time. They were all too happy to include me, and my night began to look up. I didn’t need to meet a man tonight, did I? If I made two new friends, then the night would still be considered a success. We laughed, we drank, we danced, and we people-watched. I can say that I was honestly having a good time. And the more fun I was having, the more comfortable I felt, and the more my confidence began to rise.

I went outside for another cigarette and walked up to three men that were smoking and talking and asked for a light. This apparently immediately gained me an invite into their circle of conversation. One of the men disappeared rather quickly, but the two that were left turned out to be roommates, and were attending this function by way of a woman friend that had a membership to Square Hatter’s, and a hotel room to party in for the whole night. Both men were awfully cute, although one was too young for me. “Jacques”, on the other hand, was the same age as me and appeared to be quite successful in the real estate business. I found myself intrigued with him to find out as much as I could. Time to flirt! Very quickly I discovered that he lived near me, owned his own house (his roommate was more of a tenant), was not seeing anyone, and was actively looking. The more I listened, the more I smiled. He was cute, he was stable, and he was attracted to me. Score on the first time out! My two new girlfriends eventually found me and gave me the silent “Way to go!” when they saw that I was making progress, and then graciously said their good-byes for the evening.

“Jacques’” friend came out and announced that everyone was leaving the party in the lobby to continue it in the hotel room. “Jacques” invited me up. I briefly had some flashbacks about some of the stupid things I’d done in high school, putting myself in a situation with strangers that could have put me in harm’s way, but then I quickly realized that there would be many people there, including guys and girls, so the risk factor was minimal. They had a lot of alcohol stocked up there, and I was already tipsy, so I paced myself to get sober again. After all, I had to drive home at some point! And what normally happens when nine people gather in a hotel room to drink? They play drinking games. I had to sit that out. I’d never get home if I got that drunk. So I went out onto the balcony to have a cigarette.

“Jacques” came out to join me. He started giving me boyish smiles and kept inching his way closer to me. I’m not a shy person, but I’d never been able to make the first move before. I’d always needed the guy to open the door and then I could take over from there. But tonight, I was tipsy, I was single, I had just attended my first mixer, and met a man who was attractive. I leaned over and kissed him. I felt the tingles start at my lips and wash all over my body. I had not kissed a man in over six months, since my ex-husband moved out, and I had not kissed anyone but him in seven years. “Jacques” responded to me hungrily, moving his way to my neck and my ears, his hands wandering up my back and into my hair. My hands found a similar path down his body and I drank in the attention, thirsting for more. It may have been February, but the cold weather was no longer a factor. He buried his head into my breasts, and I felt like I was starring in my very own episode of a racy sitcom. Pinning me against the railing of the balcony, he began to move down my body.

I may have paused to consider that I was allowing him to take things too far, but at that point, I didn’t care. It may have crossed my mind that I was coming across as someone who was “easy,” but this was exactly what I needed. Yes! I was attractive, and I could walk into a singles’ mixer and find an attractive man who wanted me. The more he touched me, the more my confidence rose, and the more my desires told me that I wanted this man. My morals needed to just shut the hell up.

Eventually “Jacques” dove under my long and flowing skirt. With it draped over his head like a tent, he proceeded to set up camp. This was amazing! And he was GOOD at it. I grasped onto the railing, arched my back, and closed my eyes, feeling all the amazing sensations shooting through my body as I ached for this man. My knees shook, and I’m amazed I managed to stay on my feet in heels as my breathing became jagged, and I exploded at the expertise of his tongue. My mind was swirling as I came back into focus. The desires and basic instincts that had been buried inside for so long had bubbled up and broken out when I wasn’t looking, and I liked it. “Jacques” stood up and continued to kiss and caress me. I briefly wondered why we hadn’t been caught out on the balcony, but who knows? Maybe we had and I just hadn’t noticed? It sounded like things were winding down inside and we agreed to go back in.

Several people had already gone to bed in the two-room suite, and, of the few that were left, we got some knowing looks as we walked in. I hoped “Jacques” wasn’t embarrassed. After all, I didn’t know any of these people, but some of them were his friends. He was still pretty drunk, though, and didn’t even seem to notice. One by one the remaining people left, and it was again just “Jacques” and I. He couldn’t keep his hands off me, and he told me over and over that he wanted to taste me again. How could I say no? WHY should I say no? And he gave me another earth-shattering orgasm with his amazing tongue. The last thing in the world I am is a selfish lover, so I flipped us around and began moving my way down his body, eager to give him as much pleasure as had given me. I may have been out of practice, but it’s kind of like riding a bike. It didn’t take long for me to get into a groove. After just a few minutes, though, he stopped me, saying that I was turning him on too much and he wouldn’t be able to hold out.

Forget what’s proper - I asked him if he had a condom. I had a very strict rule when it came to sex: Absolutely no condom-free sex before marriage. I had several reasons for this rule. Aside from health risks, and pregnancy risks, I felt that it was something I could offer my future husband, knowing that I had not been with anyone condom-free since I got divorced, and before I got married, I had not been with anyone condom-free since I was engaged to another man in my early 20’s. Unfortunately, I had not brought any condoms with me, because I didn’t actually expect to get lucky the first time I went out on the hunt! Unfortunately for both of us, “Jacques” didn’t have one, either. He tried telling me that he had never been able to enjoy sex with a condom, anyway, which raised a few red flags for me. Let’s put the obvious aside for just a moment and say we started dating? I wasn’t about to have a sexless relationship because he couldn’t use condoms. And I wasn’t about to break my rule for the first guy who came along – even if he could give me orgasms standing up in the chilly February night air.

So we would not be having sex tonight. Well, bummer. “Jacques” seemed okay with it, though, and then told me he wanted to taste me again. Well, as attractive as this sounded, it was approaching 6am, and I needed to get home. “Jacques” wasn’t too happy that I was leaving him and he tried like hell to get me to stay. I, on the other hand, just wanted to go home and fall asleep in my own bed. We exchanged our business cards and I drove home, wondering if I’d ever hear from him again.

The truth was, I didn’t really care if I heard from him again. I got exactly what I needed, and not necessarily sexually. I needed all of it: the mingling, the meeting, the flirting, and the ability to attract an intelligent, attractive man who wanted me. I wasn’t ready to turn around and commit myself to one man so quickly. I needed a boost to put myself back out there, and know that I was, in fact, worthy of a man who was worthy of me. Was “Jacques” that man? It was doubtful. Did such a man exist? In a city of over 5,000,000 people, I suspected that I would have a lot of fun finding out.

“Jacques” did send me an email three days later. Just sort of a quirky, “What’s up?’ sentiment. I responded, and asked if he wanted to get together again. He never wrote back. No surprises there.

Lesson Number One: Always be aware of what you’re getting yourself into, and have no expectations, either for the evening and especially beyond. Keep in mind that your actions should be those that you know you will not regret later.

Status: Learned.