At Last Call, There Comes a Critical Decision: The Night I Should’ve Gone Home

At last call, a choice must be made: Should we keep the party going or call it a night? The question concerns the party, but that’s not what you’re asking. Has the emptiness you long to fill had enough shots and shallow interaction poured into it to feel satisfied enough for this particular night? That’s the real question. On one September evening, my answer was no.

My friend Brittany and I began the evening at our usual watering hole on Las Olas in Lauderdale, and then the guy she was seeing made it a party of three. They were ready to go off and do their own thing, which left them with the problem of what to do with their adorable yet unwanted third wheel (me!). Another friend of Brittany’s texted her, wanting to meet up. Lizzie arrived. Her hair was frizzy, even frizzier than it should’ve been with the humidity. One strap of her tank top was down, but not in a nonchalant, casually cute way, it was more of a “your fly’s down” kinda way. After exchanging the initial pleasantries, Brittany started to exit with her guy. I didn’t love the plan.

“Why don’t you want to hang out with her?” Brittany demanded. 

“I don’t know.” I shot a quick glance over my shoulder at Lizzie. There was something disheveled and sloppy about Lizzie. She looked like in college; she would’ve been your roommate who always lost her cell phone and keys every time she went out. Her eyes were too wide open, and she didn’t blink often enough. They were crazy eyes. “I just met her five seconds ago.”

“Well.” Brittany put her hands on her hips, irritation radiating from her entire being. “What do you want to do? You can just go back to my place.”

I sighed. “I guess I can do that.” I didn’t want to end the night just yet. The need to fill my empty void echoed within like a bell clanging at the arrival of midnight. Standing a few feet from the bar exit, I took one last longing glance around the bar, looking for something. That’s when I saw him.

He was tall and handsome with black hair and olive skin. Sculpted biceps peeked out of the bottom of his T-shirt sleeves. The outline of his equally sculpted pecs was traceable under the shirt fabric, and without having to peek, I knew a six-pack was underneath. There’s something. His eyes scanned the bar as he walked toward the exit and met mine. In our exchanged glance, it seemed whatever we’d been searching for, we’d both found.

“On your way out?” He asked as an opener. “Where ya headed?”

“Um, not sure.” I smiled. “I was trying to figure that out. How about you?”

Daniel invited me to hang out at his friend Jared’s house. Going somewhere with two strange men is never a good idea, so Lizzie got to be my plus one, taking our group from a suss trio to an acceptable quartet. Brittany was very happy with this turn of events.

“Have fun.” She hugged me. “Text me in the morning, babe.”

“Will do!” I turned back to Daniel to see Lizzie’s arm slithering down his muscled forearm, with a smile on her face that didn’t reach her eyes, making her look even more nuts. Huh? Daniel’s eyes met mine, darted left to Lizzie, then back to me, and he subtly shook his head no. I didn’t respond because I was too distracted by Jared’s arm sliding around my waist. What in the fucking switcheroo is going on? Daniel’s gaze moved to Jared’s hand on me, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“You girls ready to go?” Jared asked, grinning ear to ear like he’d just got nothing but net on a three-pointer. He wasn’t athletic, but he also wasn’t out of shape. Solid dad bod. He wasn’t ugly, but he wasn’t someone you’d look at twice. He looked like he had money, but that didn’t make up for my zero interest in him. 

“Yes!” Lizzie squealed. 

“Um.” Things felt like they’d passed the point of return. Brittany was gone, and with her, my escape. “Let’s go.” 

My disappointment lifted as we drove Jared’s golf cart back to his condo. Not because I was discovering I was into him. I was drunk, bombing around the streets of Fort Lauderdale in a golf cart at night — that shit’s just fun! We made drinks and chatted around the kitchen island. Whenever Lizzie spoke, it felt like when DJ Khaled yells “DJ Khaled!” on a track — she added nothing to the conversation. Daniel would give her side eye, then look at me. His eyes seemed to ask, “What’s with this girl?” I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders in response. In between our ocular shit-talking, we exchanged covetous glances as if we were trying to figure out if the other was happy with the swap.

“You guys wanna swim?” Daniel asked suddenly.

“Yes!” An animated smile lit up my face. “I love swimming!” 

“Awesome. Let’s do it.” He smiled 

“Ahhh, I don’t want to,” Jared whined. I couldn’t blame him. His dad bod was like a participation trophy compared to Daniel’s athletic physique.

I felt a tug at my elbow. Lizzie looked terrified. “What?” I whispered.

“I don’t want to swim.” Her whisper became even softer. “I have my period.”

“So don’t.” She had already weaseled in on Daniel, and now she was shitting on swimming which is one of my favorite things to do drunk. 

“Please.” Her kooky eyes had the first emotion I’d seen in them since I met her. “If you go, they’ll swim, and I’ll have to. I have my period.” She pleaded.

Ugh, fuck. “Okay, fine,” I whispered to her. “Ya know what? I don’t want to get my hair wet. Let’s not swim.” I announced flatly to the group.

“Thank you,” Lizzie whispered. I gave a little nod and flick of my hand. Fucking girl code.

“Come check out the view from the balcony.” Jared pointed to the sliding glass door behind us.

“Sure.” I walked toward the balcony and slid the door open, eager to get away from Lizzie. There was a plushy lounger that looked comfy as hell and a light breeze luring me to lay down and look at the stars. “This is beautiful.” I turned back around. Jared was a few steps behind me while Daniel remained at the kitchen island. Lizzie was sliding her arm around Daniel’s shoulders. 

“I’m hungry.” Daniel suddenly stood up and out of Lizzie’s grasp. “I’m walking to the food truck. Be right back.” He walked out the door.

“I’ll come!” Lizzie ran after him.

As my girl Taylor says, “Dear reader, if it feels like a trap, you’re already in one.” Jared and I were now alone on the balcony. Oh fuck. He didn’t make a move and instead started asking questions. My guard dropped a little as we chatted about our lives. That’s, of course, when Jared made his move and laid next to me on the lounger. Shit, shit. He did his best to coax me upstairs to his bed, but I wasn’t having it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t- I mean-.” I stopped and stammered over every word. “I think it’s best if we don’t.” 

“Whatever.” He raised his hands in defeat. “I’m going to bed.” He stomped up the steps like a pouty toddler sent to time out. 

Alone in the living room, I contemplated my next move. I’d left my house keys at Brittany’s, but she wasn’t home. My only way into her apartment was to pound on the door until her roommate woke up and let me in, which I wouldn’t do at this hour. The idea of staying at the home of the man I just rejected was horrific.

“Oh, fuck.” I said out loud to the living room.

Then, I heard the door open. Daniel walked up the steps from the garage. His face was giving haggard Ben Affleck dealing with some JLo bullshit. Lizzie followed with a vacant smile plastered on her face, which fell away when she saw me standing alone in the living room.

“Where’s Jared?” Daniel asked, setting his bag of food on the kitchen island. 

“He went to bed.” I smiled and pointed at the food. “What did you get?”

“Chicken wings and fries. Want some?”

“Sure.” I sat on the barstool next to Daniel. “Can I see a picture of your daughter?” My shoulder gently brushed his as I leaned over to snag a fry. 

Daniel happily presented picture after picture of his little girl. His face softened when he looked at her, which made him even hotter to me. Lizzie interjected into our conversation, parroting everything I said or echoing, “Me, too.” She was giving DJ Khaled once again (“And another one!”).

“Look who gets all the girls.” Jared’s bitterness cut through like a knife. He descended the staircase in gym shorts and a sweatshirt.

“Don’t be all salty. We’re just hanging out.” I smiled. “You’re welcome to join.”

“Yeah.” He scoffed. “What about when it’s time to go to bed?”

“You’re not welcome in my bed, dude,” Daniel smirked. “There’ll be no room with the three of us in it anyway.” Everyone laughed except Jared. 

“Be just me with my dick in my hand.” Jared rolled his eyes.

“Hey, ladies.” Daniel stood up. “Shall we go to bed?” 

Lizzie jumped fast (almost too fast). “Yes!”

“Let’s go.” Daniel grabbed my hand, and Lizzie grabbed his other. I giggled as I was dragged up the steps, thinking this was all part of the joke. Once in the bedroom, Lizzie flopped on the bed, and Daniel pulled me along. What the fuck? Is this for real? Lizzie’s hand went for Daniel’s zipper, and Daniel put his hands around my face. 

At the time, I was 36 years old, and I’d never had a threesome (a stat that remains true to this day). I have no interest at fucking all in a thruple, and I don’t care if that makes me boring or less sexy. Ethically nonmonogamous relationship sounds like some Gen Z bullshit to this elder millennial. No cap. When it comes to relationships and the bedroom, I’m a one-on-one gal. And I don’t have confusion about what team I’m on. In my midlife crisis of divorce, moving to another state, and changing careers, I didn’t need to add a lesbian phase. I’m tragically, horrifically, disastrously attracted to men — and men alone. If I were ever to have a threesome, the conditions would have to be absolutely perfect — like Kate Beckinsale and Chris Evans want to hit me up (then I would never want to see them again). When one of the members of the trio is a bitch with crazy eyes on the rag, that is NOT the perfect conditions.

“You guys have fun,” I whispered gently. “I’m going downstairs.”  

“Claire, stay.” Daniel had urgency in his voice. “Please”

“No. I do NOT want to do this.” I hurried down the stairs. I was halfway down when Daniel’s voice stopped me.

“Claire! Wait, hold up.”

“What?” I whirled around. I probably had the crazy eyes now.

“I don’t want to do that either.” He pointed back up the steps. “I wanted you this whole time, and she just leached onto me.”

“I know. She’s fucking crazy.” I whisper-yelled back. “And Jared latched onto me. This is all fucked.”

“This whole night got fucked.” He sighed. 

I turned to continue downstairs.

“Claire, don’t go.”

“I’m not going back up there with her. You get rid of her; maybe we can make something happen, but I’m going to sleep on the couch now.” 

A few minutes after I curled up under a throw blanket, I heard the steps creaking. Lizzie lay down on the loveseat across from me. Sleeping across from a girl I didn’t even like in the home of a guy I didn’t like, I wished I had just gone home. The echoing void I’d tried to fill rang loud within me. Exhausted by my emptiness, I slept until a whisper woke me up.

“Claire.” Daniel’s face was right in front of me. “Come with me.” I followed him upstairs.

The next morning, our pillow talk turned to relationships.

“Would you get married again?”

I shrugged. “I would… I also wouldn’t.” 

He shook his head and laughed. 

“How’s that funny?” I playfully shoved my elbow into his side. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know.” He stared up at the ceiling. “I feel kinda dead inside.” 

I rolled toward him and gave his sculpted chest a playful slap. “Me too.” We both giggled like someone had told the silliest joke ever.