making the move

I was talking with my friend jimmy
at the local pub
the other day when he asked me what I
thought about dating again
at this stage of life. lonely and
freshly divorced, he wants to get
back into the game.
I looked at him and shook my head.
it's crazy out there, I said.
I had to get a part time job
just to cover all the chardonnay
and calamari I've been buying.
what do you mean, he says. don't
the women pay half.
I smiled and took a sip of my
gin and tonic. some do, I said,
but most run to the bathroom as
soon as the check comes.
hmmm. he said. so, tell me,
is there kissing on the first date?
does that ever happen.
yeah, sometimes, sometimes though
you get slapped if you make
your move too quickly, or pepper sprayed.
I look up into the light and tell
him to look into my eyes. see that?
yeah, he says, I can see the redness.
so, be careful, some of these
women are hellcats. just because they're
knitting these days doesn't mean
they aren't dangerous.
i blink and drip
some eye drops into my eyes.
so what's your move, he asks, I used to have
a move back in high school, but
that's a long time ago.
I mean, do you go with your
left arm around the shoulder,
or across the front. what is it these
days, buttons, snaps, Velcro? I used
to have a hard time with those hooks.
hooks, whew, I say. four hooks
was like cracking a bank safe.
my move? depends, I said. sometimes my
shoulder hurts, so I have to make
my move with my right arm,
reaching slowly around the back,
maybe gently playing with her hair
if it isn't a wig.
or if my knee is stiff, or if my allergies
are acting up, I do
this nuzzle thing with my head,
like a cat, into her neck area.
women love cats.
jimmy takes out a pen
and starts writing all this down on a napkin.
it's best though, I tell him
to wait until you get the green light
from a woman. let them tell you when it's
okay to make a move, if ever.
the green light, he writes down
in capital letters, underlining it.
a nod, a wink or if they go into
another room and come out a few minutes
later with a body stocking on,
teetering on a pair of stiletto heels.
something like that
is what I call a green light.
so how many dates before...?
before what I say, tapping the bar
to get a refill. put some alcohol
in there this time I tell the bartender.
how many dates before what?
you know, before you're spending
the night with one another.
spending the night? I say, wide eyed.
whoa Nellie.
unless you want to get married again,
you want to avoid that as much as
possible. it's best to take a quick
cat nap after it's all over
then quietly get dressed and go
home. put everything in one pile
so that later that night you
aren't scrambling around looking
for your shoes and socks, keys
and phone.
jimmy grabs another napkin
to write more of this down.
you want your visits to be timed
so that you avoid family, parents and kids.
ex husbands, etc. once you meet all of
them, well, it's game over.
jimmy taps his pen on the bar,
dang, i'm out of ink.
I need another pen he says,
it's okay, I tell him.
I think that's enough for one night.