Men without Women Part 1

by Joseph Ridgwell

Dan fought his way home after another shit week at the office. He worked as a project manager for some faceless public sector organisation, and had done for years. In fact, if truth be told he was in something of a rut.  Sometimes he found it hard to recall exactly what his job was. Housing, that was it, his job had something to do with housing, social housing, but as the weeks and months merged into one long forgotten mess, it became harder and harder to remember.

     As usual the train was jam-packed and it was hot! Was this the way to travel in the 21st century? Dan eyeballed the other passengers, eyeless, mouthless, noseless, soulless, useless hunks of shit. Or maybe it was the heat?

      As the train hurtled through the tunnels Dan thought about the cold beers waiting in his fridge back home, and mentally licked his lips. He hadn’t had a drink in over twenty-four hours and was gasping.

      After successfully battling his way out of the station he gave his old friend Jake a call,

‘Jakey, its Dan, beers round mine?’

‘Do birds have beaks?’

Dan laughed at that. His old mate Jakey, always good for a laugh.

     Dan was nudging forty and lived in a small apartment, alone. Despite a string of girlfriends, he had never married, and as the years rolled by he became less and less interested in the fairer sex. Of course, he still had urges, but internet porn and the odd brothel visit took care of those basic needs.

     Dan was on his fourth beer when the buzzer sounded loud and clear. He roused himself and picked up the intercom,

‘Bonjour?’
‘Gudentag’

      Hey, hey, it was Jakey, thought Dan happily. He pressed the buzzer, and then rushed over to his fridge, grabbed a cold one, and placed it on the dining room table.

     Moments later Jakey appeared, laden down with two blue plastic carrier bags. He was a little older than Dan, but they were around the same height, same body build, and a very drunk person might have gone so far as to suggest they were twins.  Like Dan there was no woman in Jakey’s life, and hadn’t been for a goodly while.

     When Jakey saw the beer on the table his eyes lit up, ‘Has that got my name on it?’

Dan took a slow swig from his can and then burped, loudly, ‘Is the Pope Jewish?’

Jakey smiled and raised the blue plastic bags in the air, ‘Fridge geez?’
Dan took another swig of beer, ‘Start as you mean to go on.’

Once settled the two friends spent a couple of hours talking, smoking and drinking. They talked about stuff that most old friends talk about. I don’t mean old friends who haven’t seen each other for a while, but old friends who still see each other regularly. There were frequent pregnant pauses, many a nod of the head, and some extended periods of silence, but the chatter bumped along nicely none the less.

     At some point the convo turned to the eternal battle of the sexes,

‘Shit, I could do with a bird,’ moaned Jakey.

Dan’s response to this was to react like he had been personally insulted, ‘What the fuck? Are you already pissed? Guys like us don’t need women, what good are women to guys like us?’

Jakey took another hit from his can of wife beater, ‘Ok, ok, but you know, I get the feeling it would be nice to just lie in the arms of a female again.’

      Dan’s eyes bulged out and he sprayed some of his Nelson Mandela over the laminated floor, ‘Shit, get a grip will ya fella. The female is the enemy, only in love with cars, houses and money, or intent on destroying likable chaps like us with their irrepressible feminine charms. And don’t be fooled by sexual physiognomy either. Just remind yourself that all women, no matter how beautiful, end up looking like their mothers. And eventually they morph into men, and ugly men at that.’

      Jakey downed the rest of his can, cracked open another, and shook his head somewhat ruefully, ‘Come on Dan, be real, you’d love some hot chick to wake you up in the morning, bring you breakfast in bed, and then suck you dry!’

Dan smiled wryly and sparked up another Lambert & Butler, ‘Hey, hey, maybe so bro, maybe so, but only if the bitch would do the washing up and then fuck right off afterwards.’

Jakey cracked up at that. Dan could always make him laugh, but then he became somewhat serious, ‘So what is the secret Dan? I mean, how can good guys like us ever make a relationship with the fairer sex work out?’

      Dan patted his beer belly and rubbed his four-day stubble thoughtfully, ‘You know Jake, for good guys like us, guys with no hidden agenda, no ulterior motives, basically a couple of old romantics, the only answer would be separate addresses.’

Jake lifted his leg and farted loudly and extendedly, ‘Whaddya mean?’

Dan held his nose betwixt thumb and finger and spoke nasally, ‘I mean, have a relationship with a woman by all means, but don’t live with her. Just get her to come round two or three times a week, you know to do the cleaning, cooking, ironing, and give satisfaction at night.’

      A dreamy-far off look appeared in Jake’s eyes, ‘Yeah, give us satisfaction at night, like a proper whore, anal, 69, BJ, the full Monty.’

Dan tossed his empty can over his shoulder and then grabbed another cold one from the fridge, ‘Exactly, then when we’re tired of shagging her senseless, we call her a cab.’

     By now Jake was pissed, ‘Yeah, but maybe that’s why we’re still single? He slurred and then cracked up laughing.

Dan popped open his can and downed ¾ of the contents in one impressive swig, ‘Ha, ha, good point Jakey, but I reckon my ideas are the only way forward, even revolutionary in their intent. It would put an end to messy divorces, unhappy marriages. It’s the future I say.’

      Suddenly Jake looked up, ‘But what about kids?’

Dan didn’t even flinch, ‘If the silly old moo is so inconsiderate as to get impregnated, then she has to be prepared go it alone.’

‘Isn’t that a bit selfish and irresponsible?’ Slurred Jake.

Dan bobbed his head like a chicken, ‘Na, not really, just realistic, and once the sprog is born, it should be sent to a boarding school along with all the other sprogs, just like Plato espoused. For as everyone knows blood parents only arrest a child’s intellectual development.’

      By now Jake had grown sleepy. He had already taken off his boots and stretched out on the only settee in the cramped one-bedroom apartment,

‘Shit, you have some crazy ideas Dan, but that’s why I like you, you’re different.’
‘Hey, d’ya wanna listen to some Emmy Lou?’ Asked Dan.
Jake folded his arms across his chest, sighed deeply, and closed his eyes,
‘Yeah, yeah, she rocks dude.’

    Dan staggered over to a dusty little record player and spent an inordinately long time searching for the right album. Eventually he pulled out a piece of vinyl, placed it onto the turntable, and dropped the needle. Then he found a blanket from somewhere and placed it over the already snoring Jake.

     Once his mate was taken care of Dan sat back in his easy chair, fired up another cigarette, heard Emmy Lou Harris warble something about a Boulder to Birmingham, and wondered where the rest of his life had gone.

 

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~ This piece was posted on Monday, May 12th, 2008 and was filed under Writing, Short Story. You can make comments on it below. ~