I don’t know, but I ventured out to a club that used to be a standard hangout of mine, lo, all those many years ago and sidled on in, plunked my keister on a bar chair – they got rid of the stools years ago and put in bar stools/chairs with backs and low arms. Better to keep the drunks from falling out I guess. What’s next, seat belts?
They also removed the brass foot rail. Something about insurance and people hooking their toes under it and tripping. (Sheesh!) They made one sensible improvement though. They installed big floor drains in the can and tiled everything over. There’s one of these little home fire hoses in a panel in the wall. (Locked for obvious reasons.) Now and then, on a busy night, the assistant bartender goes in there if someone whoopsied their lunch or just couldn’t quite manage to get the ol’ urine stream in the urinal. He hoses everything down the drain, spritzes a little industrial grade deodorant and germicide about and turns on a big vent fan for a few minutes.
I thought that was cool. No more stinky mop bucket in the corner, reeking of whatever.
Anyhow, as the night wore on, I realized that not only were there many, fine looking young ladies starting to appear but the place was starting to look like stud city. All these even smiles, heads of styled hair, square jaws and bodies by Jake or the local gym. A few guys my age came in, but they looked like they’d had some plastic surgery on their faces and their teeth reworked. (No false teeth there – implants baby! Implants.)
These guys reminded me of wealthy and crooked contractors I met years ago – wearing alligator booths, custom fitted jeans, designer work shirts, driving massive pick up trucks all chrome and custom paint that never carried a load of supplies and yacking on cell phones held in designer leather belt holsters.
I did not fit the scene at all. I studied a couple of the guys who looked my age – but better and while I like to dye my hair, I observed that they had apparently been to the hair doctor. Good hair line and no bald spots. Mine had receded a bit. (Hell, a lot!)
The girls were pretty. No two ways about it, even those who might be around my age but they swarmed around the good looking guys.
I finished my second beer and retreated. Even the bartender was different, younger, pasted on smile and almost too alert. The bar maids were all young and obviously lived at the local gym. I got ‘professional’ smiles from them.
I came home and pondered. Most of the women, who are still single (divorced) that I knew have kinda changed. Their eyes and faces are old, their smiles weary and they look, well, … hard. Some have turned into mean, homely ‘ladies’. I ran across two who used to be petite, lovely, happy and caring. Both gained about 50 pounds, are by no means petite, nor are they lovely anymore, happy or caring. Both are rather mean.
Have times changed that much since I circulated? Man!
