Boys Night Out

The place was small and the room smelled as sweet as popcorn. The music was cracking loud with those old hits from the 70s, back in the day when music actually meant something.
It was the three of us, Lee, Dr. P. and myself, it was boys night out.
What do men really talk about? What do men really want? What do they really need?
Offer me a hundred bucks and I will not tell you. Offer me a thousand and I will tell you to go fuck yourself two times over. Offer me a glimpse at those amazing round tits and I will spill it over, like a broken whiskey barrel during those days of prohibition. Every man has got his own weaknesses and we all know where mine lie.
For us men it is not about the drink, nor is it about the sweet smelling scent of the waitress as she walks by. Those are merely condiments. They fall way short of the main chow hall meal.

Like a pack of Hyenas, like a broken set of chairs, a sinking boat sound that does not make it to the coast, men need men. We need this for so many reasons that are beyond the very understanding of you lonely female misanthropes who are often entangled in a discontinued comfort of friendship. Yes male bonding is a real fucking deal and you would not guess if you tried a hundred times.

We sat around the bar and drank everything that she brought in our direction. Her name was Ashley and her ass required extra attention.

We spoke about nothing that any of you would expect.
Yes, there is much more pain in a man’s life than what they tell you about in those pathetic reality shows.

Three good friends are sitting around the bar, watching women walk by and talking more bullshit than a cow could ever shovel. What do we really know about this world of women? Everything seems so obvious after you have had your heart broken more than once or twice.

We all took our turns and shared in our pain. It was all the same story written in different alphabets. Same old bullshit stories about boy meeting girl, boy wanting girl, boy fucking girl, boy telling his friends all about it more then ten years after.

There was always room for exaggeration. Take the fine detail and divide it by half, you may get closer to the truth.
But the facts were always inconsequential. Tonight was boys night, a time to feel alive. To feel as if nothing else matters and most importantly, that everything will be ok after all.

Your wife is a total bitch, we can live with that, your wife won't put out, we will argue for bad behavior, your wife is everything you ever wanted and more, good for you, you lucky bastard.

Time goes by and things somehow change. We all live in the same city and yet, for some strange reason, we don't get to hang out as much as we used to back in the day.

But Wednesday night was and will always remain boys night. And thank God for that.