I had been enjoying NBC's The Playboy Club until it was cancelled. It brought back dancing memories,
In about 1978 my fiance and I were both in school. One of his friends had a Playboy key. We were his guests several times after ROTC military balls. I'm sure the gentlemen were kind enough to refrain from sharing with us women their manly thoughts. But it was clear that we all felt the same sense of history, a part of being in our city and proud north siders.
The Club had a discotheque at this time, of course. We girls were in our long gowns, corsages and Farrah hairdos. The place was packed but still had a table for us to enjoy cocktails. The Bunnies served and we ladies stared at them more than the guys who were old enough to drink but not suave enough to openly flirt.
My impression was this: they worked very hard on their feet as any server but were in uniforms that were akin to Scarlett O'Hara's corset. They were kind and cheerful. Most were pretty with perfect figures but I did not think any prettier than I. The job afforded them the opportunity to wear make up and hairstyles that would have looked "overdone" on civilian women.
I nursed my Seagram's 7 and 7 Up but the music called me. My fiance danced with me, his friends danced with me. A peculiar thing about Chicago at that time was that girls did not dance with girls at most clubs. Girls who danced with girls had their own clubs. I had no interest in sitting.
The floor was so crowded that I ventured out there alone. At first, I positioned myself so that it would appear that I was sharing a man with another girl. As the night wore on, I abandoned myself to the music and danced alone in the same manner I did in front of my mirror at home. The music, the ensuing endorphins and my beautiful dress left me free to express myself in my own unique way.
After 3 hours, my fiance appeared to drag me home. My hair was soaking wet and straight but I glowed. I had surrendered to the dance.
We've been a couple for almost 17 years. He was supposed to come over the day after his birthday. He showed up 2 days later. I baked him organic oatmeal raisin cookies knowing that he's not a cake person. He said he liked them. We stayed up late discussing current events, sympathizing with the Occupiers but not sure if they're going to change anything in the near future
The next day I woke up late due to the ache-inspiring weather. He had gone to a Chinese buffet by himself and brought back a container for me: a few broccoli, a few pieces of various meats and about a half cup of rice.
I was hoping he would rake leaves with me, recalling the many years of fun I had with my ex and my family scooping up those wayward travelers.
No, he wanted to go to a cafe while I did it by myself. Could I go with him? No, he had to write a stand up act.
Of course he had brought his laundry, which he did himself but left a stack of my clean undies on top of the dryer. I went down to get them and found that his load was still damp so ran the dryer for another half hour.
When he came home and heard the dryer running he ran downstairs.
This is what I heard: "you f'n piece of sh*t!! (dryer door bangs loudly) You've shrunk my shirts! You could have asked!!" He came upstairs, each time wearing a shirt with about 2 inches of redhead white wrists showing. He threw each one on the sofa or floor and told me to donate them, in a very loud voice.
I tried to talk but he screamed over me. The odd part is that I have washed and dried those same shirts too many times to count over the past 5 years as none of them were new. One had a hole in the elbow. One was the shirt he wore to his mother's funeral and had removed the pocket that he had rented.
He demanded an apology. I had done so already but he said it wasn't good enough. I told him that I would not tolerate his abusive language and to get out. He did, as I've called the police in the past because of his language but there's nothing they can do unless he hits you.
I folded the remaining clothes and put the load in the washer in the dryer. For 20 minutes on low.
He left the next day early in the morning.
Do his hugs and kisses still mesmerize me, his scent make me dizzy?
Yes, but I have danced alone before and been quite satisfied.
That was 4 days ago. He must be waiting for his apology.
