Friday Night Blues

Friday night. Here I am - single, free and easy, money in my wallet, the night is fine, the bars are open and…

…and I'm sitting here in the Laundromat washing my clothes.

Pitiful, isn't it? Five years ago something like this would have been unthinkable. Five years ago I was in college, also single, free and easy but not so much money in my wallet. Never let that get in the way of a good time, though. Collect some buddies from the dorm, hit the bars, hit on a few girls, strike out and go back to the dorms.

Five years ago that constituted a good time, even if the hitting on the girls part was never all that successful. Oh, let's be honest, I struck out every time.

Scholarships paid the bills, dorm food, bad as it was, fulled my belly and studying filled my time. If I ran a little short, the Bank Of Mom And Dad offered some nice terms on a short term loan that really was a grant. Life was good.

Then I had to go and graduate and muck the whole thing up.

Seriously, the moment they handed that sheepskin they booted me off the stage, out of the nice, cozy college life into the real world. It took a while to realize it, though. I had a good job lined up, one that paid decent money and wasn't even drone work. I became a Systems Analyst. Not a computer type of Systems Analyst, but a guy who tried to look over an entire project and spot the places where things could go wrong. In my final internship I had found out I have an affinity for such things, spotting a couple of flaws that saved my customer a whole bunch of money and made my employer look very good. I impressed my mentor, I impressed the higher-ups and I even impressed me. So much so that they were now paying me to do the same thing for them full time.

You know how a good mechanic can pop the hood on your car, give it a listen and say with assurance "Yup! Y'all got a busted frammistat there, buddy" or a virtuoso can listen to an entire orchestra and say "The second piccolo is a sixteenth-tone flat"? Well, I've kinda been able to do that with complex systems.

My folks are small town professionals, and there have been a couple of times I've been able to identify the grit in the gears and make a suggestion that just might make things easier. Sometimes those suggestions were even acted upon, but the bureaucracy is a slow-moving beast.

I worked a summer for an uncle in the construction business and a couple of my suggestions on how to streamline the job made him hit his head and wonder how he missed something so obvious.

In other words, people were trusting me with projects that run to some pretty big bucks. In the words of my grandparents, I have become the establishment. Not sold out to the establishment, you will note, because Gramps says he sold out long ago when he got hungry and cold begging on the street corners. I'm not sure I actually believe he was one of those dudes with a scruffy beard and a big dog standing on the corner with a tattered piece of cardboard that says something like 'Anything Helps - God Bless' and a smiley face just to give the sign some color. Then again, with Gramps you never can tell…

Gramps does give me grief about wearing a suit, says he tossed his suits when he got vested in the company retirement plan and a vest was good enough for him. That's a typical piece of Gramps Crock, since he was the company and the company was him and Grandma. I do have to admit, though, that I'd rather be dressed for college than having to wear a suit, but analysts must be seen to be sober and responsible men. Not that my company assumes men are superior in such roles, but there is always the customer to think about. Not too many women around in senior positions in a lot of our customers.

I kind of took the long way around in telling this story, but that's why I'm doing laundry on a Friday night instead of partying. I have gotten more sober as I got older, and frankly I don't enjoy partying like I used to. Even so, you might be asking 'Yeah, but laundry?'

So it happened this way… A while back, it was cold outside with more cold and lots more ugly predicted for the weekend. I was running low on underwear and knew if I didn't get the laundry done soon I would be in trouble, so I went down to the laundromat on a Friday evening to correct the situation. I got there in time to join a harassed-looking woman with three bored kids and a grumpy dude who kept glaring at the kids. I put my stuff in the washers and settled down with a paperback to wait for the buzzer.

After a few minutes I looked over the edge of the book to see a pair of brilliant blue eyes, framed by adorable golden curls, looking up at me. I smiled at her, she smiled at me. I put the book in front of my eyes and proceeded to play peek-a-boo with her, eliciting gales of giggles.

After a while, bigger brother came over to see what the giggling was about, so I stuck out my tongue at him and made a face. Bigger brother can giggle as well as younger sister. Sober Suit still can entertain children, the perfect antidote to a week of being serious.

We were soon joined by big sister, and I decided it was time to haul out the magic trick that Uncle Sylvester taught me. After I had produced a series of quarters (something of great use in a laundromat) from the ears of various children, harassed-mother had finished her laundry and was smiling gratefully at me as she shepherded her flock to the station wagon. Sometimes being part of a large and boisterous family comes in handy.

"That was just marvelous!" a voice said behind me. I turned around to find the grumpy guy was gone and in his place was a striking woman who had come in unnoticed while I was entertaining my small onlookers.

"It's always a joy to make small people happy," I answered while asking myself how anyone could have let this woman come in without noticing her. As I stood up I realized she came damned close to my own 5'11" and she wasn't wearing high heels. Her eyes were the same intense blue as my small admirer but her hair was several shades lighter than my own dirty blonde.

Visions of a corn-fed Swedish farm girls, some buxom Alpine shepherdess or even a boisterous server in a German beer garden came easily to mind; I could see her in a low-cut, ruffled white blouse and one of those cross-laced corset-thingies that pushes the boobs up and out of the blouse.

However, she was wearing a fuzzy pink sweater that outlined her breasts nicely, white corduroy slacks that outlined her hips nicely, no makeup and no wedding or engagement ring. I checked. She was solidly built, athletic but undoubtedly feminine - no fainting princess, to be sure.

All right, so sue me. I like looking at women and she was worth noting the details. But the one detail I haven't mentioned was the air of supreme confidence she exuded. One look and you knew that this woman would not be wilting like a sun-parched flower if someone gave her trouble.

"You certainly made that mother happy. I can remember making my nanny crazy while she did the laundry. It was just so boring!"

"Is your life so devoid of pleasure that doing your laundry on a Friday night actually counts as exciting?" I asked.

"Not hardly. My life is so devoid of clean underwear that I'm doing my laundry on a Friday night."

"Odd you should say that, I'm in the same boat."

She laughed. She had a very nice laugh.

"Sometimes I get so sick of being an adult!" she said. "Do you ever wish you could go back to the days where you could get all excited by a stranger playing peek-a-boo with you?"

"Yeah, about this time a couple of years ago when I realized I would no longer get the entire summer off for vacation any more."

So we spent the rest of the time commiserating about how hard life was. She was a pharmacist, pushing pills all day long and offering advice to those who would listen. I was happy to listen and we started laughing as we got sillier and sillier in our examples of life's travails.

Her name was Aida, she said it was originally Arabic meaning reward or present, but had spread to many cultures. Her father's Spanish family thought it was a wonderful name for the first girl child in three generations. For me, it was an unexpected reward or present on a cold night that I had expected to be downright boring.

I was almost sorry when my laundry was done, wishing I had an excuse to wait a bit longer with her. She surprised me by putting the last of her lingerie, still in its mesh bag, on top of her clean clothes and leaving when I did.

"See you next Friday," she laughed as we went out in the cold.

Confessions to a Girlfriend

So I decided to do my laundry again the next Friday. I tried not to get my hopes up, but Aida was the first woman I'd met since college that attracted me. I suppose since I didn't spend so much time in bars I didn't meet as many women as most single men in the big city. I also figure that since I didn't spend so much time in bars I wasn't quite as susceptible to alcohol-induced lust, something I tried to avoid due to a bad experience in college.

She was there, and we talked about everything and anything. I learned she was an only child and had been raised by a series of nannies. Her parents seem to consider her little more than a trophy to be auctioned off to the highest bidder, destined to advance the family fortunes. I told her about my family, growing up with two older sisters who loved me and parents who made me proud to be their child. Her air of confidence was replaced with what I can only call envy.

Some of the episodes she related convinced me that she wasn't exaggerating as to why she was not on good terms with her parents. Talk about tone-deaf, selfish people!

And so it went, for the next several weeks. We met on Fridays, watched our clothing spin around in those big, industrial-size dryers, fed in an endless stream of quarters and learned about each other's lives. Who would have thought I would look forward to doing my laundry?

As the weather improved and the sunlight lingered farther into the evening, we started to go out to a nearby cafe when the wash was done. I had just about gotten the nerve to ask her out on a real date when her cell phone rang and she answered. It was obvious she wasn't happy as her answers were short and to the point.

"Shit!" she exclaimed as she put her phone into her purse. "Sarah just called in sick. I have to go in tomorrow morning to cover for her since I don't have anyone available. She's running a fever and nobody wants to get pills from a sick pharmacist."

"Sorry to hear that, and it looks like the weather is actually going to break for the weekend."

"I know, dammit! I was supposed to spend the day with my boyfriend, Steve."

Oh crap. Boyfriend. She hadn't said word one about a boyfriend to me. Oh well… Boyfriend or not, I think we were certainly friends.

"I hope he won't be too disappointed," I said.

"Maybe it's for the best, he's been getting a little too frisky lately."

"Aida, there's no way I can comment on that without sounding like a jerk."

"Hah! Maybe I should trade you in on Steve, at least you have a sensitive side."

"Not to stick my nose in where it doesn't belong, but if he's so insensitive why are you seeing him?"

"He's good looking, he's not stupid, he's fun to be with most times and he's sexy as hell. It's just that I'm not ready to go where he wants to go. Been there, done that and got the scars."

"Which is bed? Go to bed. Go directly to bed and do not collect two hundred dollars?"

"Hey! I don't charge if I'm ready."

"Uh Aida? Should you be talking about this with another guy?"

"Probably not, but you're a good listener. I guess I was just pissed off at having to work instead of having fun."

"Just not too much fun."

And so it went for some time, meeting at the laundromat, then exchanging phone numbers and talking in the evenings. I hadn't heard from Aida in a few days and was getting concerned. Her phone went to voicemail and her message queue was full. I hoped she wasn't sick or hurt or something.

Love On The Rocks

She didn't appear the next Friday, but she was finally there when I arrived the following week. She was there and the place was empty except for her. However, she was not the bubbly woman I knew. Her eyes were red and she had obviously been crying.

"Hi Aida," I said quietly.

"Oh, Lauren." she said quietly.

I took a chance. "Steve?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

I busied myself loading the washer and let her have time to herself."

"How bad?" I asked.

"Finished. Over. Kaput. Terminal."

"If you loved me you'd do it?"

"Christ yes!" she spat.

"He's an asshole."

"He was interested in that, too."

"I'd say he's a douchebag but that's too close to enema for comfort."

That got a glare that turned into a laugh.

"That was perfect!"

"Right. Stand up proud and loud and scream 'Fuck You' at the bastard."

"Uh, Lauren? That's what I wouldn't do."

"Oh yeah. Shows you've got superior taste, it does."

"And he's never going to find out what I taste like, either!"

"TMI Aida."

"You're too easy to talk to, like a girlfriend, I suppose."

"I just never could figure out guys like that," I observed. "I mean, there were a few jerks at college that kept scorecards, but I never could figure out what a woman would see in someone like that."

"That's just it - you don't see it because the bastards are so good at hiding it. Suave and sophisticated and oh-so-caring until a girl says no. Then comes the bullshit and 'if you really loved me' crap."

"Not that I've had any experience," I said, "but for me it would have to be completely mutual. I mean, how could you enjoy sex if your partner is being coerced?"

"You sure you aren't a girl in disguise? Oh shit - I didn't mean it that way!"

Poor Aida turned red from the tops of her breasts to the top of her forehead. Naturally, about that time the place began to fill up, so we couldn't dissect either Steve or my fellow men any further that evening. The next week was out because I was going home for my folks anniversary party and would be leaving directly after work on Friday. It was two weeks before I saw Aida, but at least she was answering the phone again.

She was looking much better, and I complimented her on her outfit, she had really good taste in clothes.

"I'm glad you like it. I missed you last week, Lauren."

"Family obligations, my folk's anniversary party. You would have loved it."

"Oh god! Don't remind me. I have a command performance in a few weeks for my parents big anniversary bash."

"I get the feeling that isn't going to bring you great tidings of comfort and joy?"

"What's with the Christmas schtick?"

"A client already planning a Christmas village and I've been picking over some really crazy ideas and trying to convince them they aren't practical - at least not at their current budget."

"Well, budget wouldn't be a problem with my parents. If Ringling Brothers hadn't gone out of business they probably would have them as entertainment for their Anniversary Bash just to make their so-called friends jealous."

"I hate to tell you this, but Ringling Brothers is planning to reopen in 2023."

"Too late for this year's bash, thank god."

"You sound like you're looking for any excuse not to go."

"There's only one reason I want to go, and that'd to see Richards. He's the family butler and I think he's more my father than the sperm donor who has the official title. Nannies came and nannies went, but Richards was always there for me.

"Richards is a character right out of some British drama," she continued. "Ramrod straight, always impeccably dressed, formal as all get-out when outsiders are present but the one man in the household who had time for a lonely little girl. He never married and as far as I know he never made time with any of the women in the household staff. I really hope he has someone nearby that he can visit and be himself away from my family."

"I take it you aren't exactly the apple of your parents' eye?"

"Hell, I went out and became a pharmacist - a mere technician - instead of marrying a rich doctor and having a passel of kids to consolidate their little empire."

"That sounds about as stupid to me as guys like he-who-I-will-not-name thinking sex is a competition with winners and losers."

"I hate to tell you this, but I think I was the gold ring in my parents personal sack-time competition. They've had separate bedrooms for years."

"Maybe you should run away and join the Circus?"

"Nah. My boobs aren't big enough for those skimpy costumes."

"Gar...agk…urk..."

That's about as close as I can come to the sound I made.

"Poor Lauren! I forget sometimes because you're so easy to talk to. Look, this place is going to start getting filled up, come back to my place with me and we can keep talking."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Who knows, I might even offer to show you my etchings."

Love Among The Laundry

Aida had a very nice studio apartment with a decent view and it was only a few minutes away from the Laundromat. It even had parking so I didn't have to leave my car out on the street. I helped her carry in her baskets and set them on the bed, there being no other place to set them and leave a place for us to sit.

"Lauren?"

"Would it gross you out if I hung up my bras to dry while you're here?"

"I have two sisters and a mother, the care and feeding of brassieres holds no mystery for me."

"That's it! You are officially brevetted to the rank of girlfriend, first class for the duration. See that cord on the counter? Hook the other end to the hook on the far wall, please."

"Aye, Aye, Captain. Prepare to hoist sails… uh… bras."

"How military. You'd look cute in a sailor suit, don't you think?"

"I did when I was about two years old, and my father has the pictures to prove it. Movies, even. I was dancing the hornpipe, I believe."

"You have some interesting undiscovered depths to your personality."

"If we continue in the naval tradition, I hope you haven't any depth charges laying around."

"There have been those who got a charge out of plumbing my depths - after a suitable wetting, of course."

"Let's not go overboard. With all these..." I waved at her bras hanging on the line - "…signal flags waving in the wind."

"Looking for a good time, sailor?"

"Look Aida, I don't want to seem ungrateful, but you're still on the rebound from the jerk. I don't want you doing anything you'd regret."

She didn't say anything more, just stripped off her blouse and threw her bra over the line along with all the others.

I got the message.