2002-01-05 / Columnists

From the G-Man

By Gary G. Toms

Adventures In Clubland

Hey people! Happy New Year to all of you. I hope you brought in 2002 on a good note. It was not a bad deal for me at all. I enjoyed the company of an extremely intelligent, gorgeous and vivacious science teacher from a public school in the Richmond Hill section of Queens. She's a cross between rapper/actor Will Smith's wife, Jada Pinkett-Smith, and actress Halle Berry. I guess the G-man must have done something right, huh? While we thoroughly enjoyed each other's company throughout the evening, we intend to take things very slowly since we are coming out of long-term relationships. I'll keep you posted, but no matter what happens, I don't think the outcome will be as bad as the last couple of months of 2001.

It all started in November, when a group of friends decided to try and take me out of my funk after a heart-wrenching breakup. They probably felt I had been languishing in the "heartbreak hotel" long enough, so they snatched me up one night and took me club hopping. Now, ordinarily, the only time you will catch me in a club is when I'm requested to wreck the turntables for the evening, or when a friend or business partner is having a major soiree. Other than that, G-man does not frequent nightclubs because they have become nothing more than "meat markets" over the years. I'll catch a groove every now and then, in my own little space, but that's about it. Gotta have house...music!

Anyway, we get to this club, and it's like the scene from "Saturday Night Fever." It's the one where Tony Manero and his crew walk into the disco and everybody welcomes them warmly. The ladies were flocking to my friends because they are regulars. They are also significant players in the entertainment industry, and they make sure everybody knows it. Many regard them as the life of the party, but I just faded into the back and took a seat to watch the events unfold.

While my friends were getting funky on the dance floor, a woman approached me at the table and asked me if I wanted to dance. I should say, at least she looked like a woman. I immediately got this image of Austin Powers saying, "It's a man baby, yeah!" She, it, had more stubble than I did. I quickly retreated to the bar for a glass of Hennessey, straight up and no ice!

Once "Karen" made her exit, I went back to the table. By now, my friends were sweating up a storm on the dance floor, and I sat there like a stupid clod wondering if the she-male would descend on me again. It was at this point that I encountered a woman with a rather intriguing outfit. It was transparent! As I looked on in stunned silence, I wondered how she could leave the house with such an outfit on. My thoughts were interrupted when she asked me to buy her a bottle of Crystal. In exchange, she stated she would keep me company at the club all night. Just when I thought the situation couldn't get any worse, she flashed this smile at me. Here's a tidbit for you folks. Generally, when you smile at someone, particularly if you're flirting with them, it nice to have some teeth! I quickly retreated to the bar for another glass of Hennessey, but this time I requested a double.

I must admit that many of the guys in the place were just as weird. So many of them were grabbing women by the hand and practically dragging them to the dance floor. When that "liquid courage" kicks in, anything goes for some guys. Just standing at the bar, I was able to hear these guys tell the most obvious lies, all for the sake of trying to get lucky or please their intended target. It was really pathetic. They were self-centered and egotistical, and all they did was flaunt their presumed wealth. I could not help but think of that "Daffy's" clothing store commercial while listening to these idiots. It starts, "The shirt is Gucci. The tie is Bernini. The pants are Versaci, and the pockets are empty." The camera then focuses on the guy's pants pockets turned inside out. These club hounds were basically coming off the same way.

One guy proceeded to tell this woman that he was meeting with Mayor Guiliani, in two weeks, to submit business proposals. Being The G-man, you know I could not resist the opportunity. I asked, "I'm sorry, but won't Mike Bloomberg be firmly in place at City Hall within the next weeks?" I don't think he appreciated me blowing his cover because he slammed down his bottle of Guiness Stout and walked away. The woman looked at me with the sweetest grin, lightly patted me on the back, and went to join her girlfriends at a nearby table. I suspect she knew the guy was full of Chivas Regal.

After about an hour, I took a chance on someone who asked me to dance. She was short, very pretty, and reminded me of "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" star, Sarah Michelle Geller. As we danced, she pulled out a piece of aluminum foil and inhaled the contents. I looked at her in disbelief, and she extended her hand to offer me some. There was this strange but sad look on her face when I pushed her hand away. I turned and walked off the dance floor. I retreated to the bar for a glass of ginger ale. Within a half hour, I told my friends goodnight, and I jumped in a cab and headed back to Queens.

The weeks that followed were not any better. My friends kept partying until dawn, and I kept wishing I had stayed home. Maybe it's partly my fault for not allowing myself to open up and have a little fun, but at the same time, I must have standards.

Divorce and separation have made most of my friends take a footloose and fancy-free approach to life and women, and I often find myself trying to figure out which world I belong in. Should I be like them, or should I be Gary, a man on an endless quest for love and a stable relationship. Am I supposed to learn from their experiences and avoid commitment at this time? If I were to base my answer on the last few weeks in December, the answer should be obvious, or so you would think. I'm still trying to figure this bad boy out.

Oh well, perhaps the best thing to do is just sit back, avoid women with stubble, and try to enjoy this ride called life. At least 2002 started off on a promising note. Maybe the science teacher and I will be able to generate some chemistry in the coming year.

See you next week!

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