Survival Instinct

by Declan Conner

  “What do you do for a living?”

  “I own a web design company, but don’t ask me about computers, I couldn’t even start one. It seemed like the ‘in thing,’ so I hired people that know how to work those things. I just know how to sell ‘em,” he said laughing. “What’s your angle JJ?”

  “Marketing. I’m a partner in an advertising agency and sales marketing company.”

  “You mean you’re a salesman, like me. Have you been married JJ?”

  “Just the once, twenty five years, and then last year she went on holiday with her sister and ran off with a surfer. I just got the final divorce papers today.”

  “Shush, keep that quiet. For goodness sake man, don’t tell anyone in here or they’ll all want to move in with you. You’d be better off to put that ring back on.”

  As Bill went to get more drinks, Jamie couldn’t help noticing how garish he dressed, with his bright Hawaiian shirt and yellow framed spectacles. Jamie looked around the room and noticed a guy who kept whispering in different women’s ears as their partners were either being hit on or had been asked to dance. Without fail, he counted at least eight slaps across his face. The guy looked creepy and had the appearance of a hobo. Jamie looked round for Bill who had finished chatting with the bartender and returned with drinks.

  “Some foreign guy was asking about you at the bar.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Don’t know, he’s gone now.”

  “Must be someone I know from work. Never mind that, what’s that guy over there up to?”

  “Ah, Jake Christakos, the mathematician. Unconventional approach but it must work for him, eventually.” Bill cringed as the man got slapped again.

  “It doesn’t look that way to me; he’s getting the crap beat out of him. What’s his technique?”

  “Simple, he works the numbers game, that’s why we call him the mathematician. He asks each one if they wanna fuck, on the principal that on the laws of probability, one will say yes before the night’s out.”

  Jamie raised an eyebrow; he thought it all seemed a little seedy. This was not what he was looking for. He had only ever known June. She made him wait until their wedding night for sex, except for heavy petting and fumbling masturbation. He was hoping, in his notion of romantic naivety, it would be just a question of eyes meeting across the room, making a date, and bingo, a full blown relationship without complications. From his observations it all seemed like the law of the jungle, where the dominant male could mount anyone he chose with a little cunning, or as in the case of the mathematician, by pure unadulterated rudeness.

  Bill started looking at his watch and appeared a little agitated.

  “Listen, JJ, it’s getting close to that time when we need to wander before they all get snapped up, so I’d better fill you in on the single club’s double-speak.”

  “Double speak? What the hell’s that?”

  “First you need to look for the new ones. The regular ones know every trick in the book. I’ll point out the old ones if you stick with me. Once you’ve been to the club a few times, you’ll know who they are. This is how the double-speak works so listen carefully. ‘I’m only here to support my friend.’ That means, ‘I’m probably married but not happy at home, and I’m just seeing if I’m still hot before I leave him, so don’t give up.’ The new ones always say, ‘I feel like I’ve got available written across my forehead.’ That means she is definitely up for it.”

  “Okay, I’m with you so far.”

  “Be careful when they ask, ‘What do you do for a living?’ Because it means, ‘I need to work out how much you make.’ The cute one is when they ask if your divorce is final. It really means, ‘Have you got your share of the equity from the house?’”

  “Surely it can’t be that blatant!”

  “Oh yes it is. Trust me. I haven’t finished yet. When they say, ‘Do you have any children?’ or ‘Do they live with you?’ you can take that to mean, ‘Are you carrying any baggage?’”

  “Hang on a minute, it’s an awful lot to take in all at once. What do we ask them?”

  “I’ll get to that. I just need to finish off with the question they usually save for last and that’s, ‘How did you get here?’ What they’re really asking is, ‘Do you have a nice car?’ Once all the probing is out of the way and they determine whether you have a car to take them out with their children for Sunday picnics, and that you have the means to support them, then the fencing begins. This usually follows the male asking three main questions.”

  “I’ll never remember all of this.”

  “You will, bud, trust me, once you’ve done the rounds a few times. Always ask if they live alone or have children at home. What you’re trying to find out, is if there is somewhere you can go after, and then what are the chances of you not been disturbed? Then ask what they do for a living and do they have to start early? It means, ‘If I do manage to get you into bed, what are the chances of being at it all night?’ Oh, and don’t forget to ask how they arrived. Then you can decide if they came by taxi or with a friend, and you can see if giving them a lift is a possibility.”

  “God, is that it? It sounds so complicated, is that everything?”

  “Nearly. All that is usually followed by the male probing secondary questions like, ‘why your husband was a failure?’ Then try to create empathy, saying things like, ‘You mean all he did was watch football? When he had someone as gorgeous as you? He must be mad!’ Then follow it up with a brush of the hand on her leg or thigh and apologizing profusely, just to let her think your intentions are honorable. Then, if you’ve timed it right and she’s had enough drinks to let down her inhibitions, it’s time to usher her to the dance floor for smooches. Mission accomplished!”

  “That cynical, is it?”

  “I am afraid so. Here we are there’s two now at the bar, just follow me. If you don’t like her, just make an excuse to go to the restroom.”

  Bill dived in and chatted away as if it were his second nature. Jamie hung back, still feeling shy and trying to remember all Bill had told him. The other woman stood at the side of him, holding her bag in both hands in front of her. She swayed to and fro, bouncing her handbag on her knees as if she were in her own world. Jamie stared into his prop for the evening, his trusty fruit juice glass. She was attractive enough, but her dress seemed odd, with the appearance of a hippy, right down to the hair band around the head. Finally, Jamie thought he had better say something.

  “Hi. My name’s Jamie, what’s yours?”

  “Petal. Don’t you think it’s hot in here?”

  He missed the signal. Bill didn’t mention that one. He carried on.

  “Is this your first time here?”

  “Yes. I feel dreadful. I feel like I have available stamped all over my forehead.”

  Laughing inside, he never imagined Bill would be so accurate.

  “Your accent, it’s not American, where are you from?”

  “Manchester. That’s in England. I’ve been here five years but can’t shake the accent. Look, it’s a little hot for me; can we step out to take some air?”

  “Yeah sure, I think there are some patio doors in the next room.”

  Jamie followed as she oddly skipped her way into the other room and out the patio doors.

  “Oh, look; it’s a full moon tonight. I wonder if the fairies will be out. Ooh, look there’s the plough. It looks beautiful and the sky is so clear. Couldn’t you just fly up there and dance in the stars?”

  “The plough? Ah, you mean the Big Dipper?”

  He definitely thought she was strange now, and he was about to tell her he wanted to go to the restroom, when Bill joined them. He stood at the side of her gazing intently into the sky.

  “Oh look, Petal, Uranus and there, look, see the Clitoris.”

  “Where, Bill? Where? I can’t see. I don’t think I have ever seen those?” asked Petal jumping up and down, excitedly, searching the sky in vain and trying to follow the direction of Bill’s fo
refinger pointing to the heavens.

  “No, I don’t suppose you ever have,” he answered, sarcastically, his gaze dropping to the region of her crotch.

  Then suddenly, the penny dropped.

  “Uranus... clitoris, how dare you?” Petal stormed off in disgust. No longer skipping, her flat-soled shoes stuck to the beer-soaked carpet making an odd slurping sound. It was similar to a Velcro fastener opening and closing, which tended to add to her equally odd persona as she marched out of the room.

  “Did you have to do that?”

  “Only trying to rescue you, my good man, don’t be ungrateful. Come on, better fish to fry. The woman’s a fruitcake! By the way she dresses and talks, she’s probably on magic mushrooms,” he said laughing.

  Back at the bar, Jamie looked around the room trying to spot the possibilities.

  “Come on fill me in on who’s who. That blond over there, she looks fit.”

  “Ah, you mean Maureen, the light-hearted detour off the information highway. Not that all blonds have that disposition. ”

  “Okay, translate.”

  “It means she’s a dumb blond, good to look at but lacking in the brain cell department,” he said cupping his hand at the side of his face to keep his voice from being overheard. “The thing is, you can’t go around saying it in here. Someone might hear you, and when word gets around you’re dead meat.”

  “Okay, what about the sultry looking brunette over there?”

  “Hmm, Gail. Interesting, she’s quite horizontally accessible. The trouble is her résumé is complicated.”

  “Go on then humor me, tell me in plain language?”

  “She’s an easy lay, trouble is she’s married and into swapping. That’s her husband over there. If she picks someone up, he likes to watch.” He looked around to make sure no one could hear.

  Jamie felt that he must have lived a sheltered life and couldn't believe what he was hearing.

  “Come on, you have to be pulling my leg with all this secret language?”

  “No it’s true. It’s not just the men who have their own language. Women have one too. Like, if you hear them say, ‘He’s good at finding alternative destinations on a night out.’ It means…”

  “Okay, I understand that one,”

  “The one I like is when you hear them say, ‘He suffers from rectal-cranial inversion’. “It means the guy’s a total asshole.”

  Jamie didn’t know what to make of it all. This was just about the funniest experience he had ever had.

  “For God’s sake, are there no normal people here?”

  “Yeah, there are many normal ones here, but you have to catch the new ones, like I keep saying, bud. The regular members are the ones with complications, which is why they’re still regulars.”

  “Is that why you’re a regular?”

  “Ouch! Why don’t you just tell it like it is? Hell no JJ, I don’t care about the complicated ones as long as I get laid. Like I said, I don’t want a relationship.”

  As they walked back into the hall, it seemed deserted. All the women were on the dance floor and the men, who had been standing around, started to converge on them.

  “Why are they all on the dance floor?”

  “Five minutes to the DJ putting on smooches. Anyone that’s not fixed up heads for the dance floor. Come on, pick one out before they’re all gone,” he said as if they were children in an Easter egg hunt.

  “No thanks, I think I’ll pass. See you next week.”

  Jamie passed him his card and he reciprocated.

  “Here, there’s a singles’ dance at another hotel on Saturday. Give me a call if you want to go?” he said, as he grabbed the nearest woman for a smooch.

  Jamie left the dance hall shaking his head but having thoroughly enjoyed himself. At least he had achieved one thing Bill left out. Rule number one: If you want to get the best out of a singles’ club, find a Buddy.

  Making his way down the stairs to exit the club, he almost fell, as a guy brushed passed him.

  “Excuse me!” shouted Jamie and grabbed him by the arm with an iron grip. Turning, Jake the mathematician said nothing, but fixed him with a stare that unnerved him.

  “All it takes is to say you’re sorry,” said Jamie.

  “Why? You were in the way.”

  “What’s going on here?” said the doorman. Jamie released his grip and Jake left cursing as he disappeared into the night.

  Contents

  Changed man

  The next morning Jamie jumped out of bed full of the joys of life, rather than his usual ritual of turning off the alarm to grab an extra fifteen minutes sleep. Throwing back the curtains, warmth flooded the bedroom. The sun stood majestically on the horizon preparing for its daily journey, the master of all. It surveyed in a clear, blue sky. Jamie opened the window to a cacophony of singing birds and the fragrance from his lemon tree. He took a deep breath to soak in the essence of life and prepared for a bright, new day.

  Bounding downstairs, the kids had prepared him breakfast and sat eagerly awaiting the gory details of his night out. Jamie just ignored them and started to read his newspaper when Ellie snatched it away.

  “Come on, dad, we were both up an hour early this morning just to hear the news. How did it go?”

  “What?” Jamie teased.

  “What she means is, did you get laid?”

  “Oh, for goodness sake you two, don’t you start with double speak.”

  “No, I didn’t mean that, Steve, do you have to be so vulgar?” replied Ellie, hitting Steve with the newspaper as Jamie grabbed it back.

  “Look you two; try not to spoil all this good karma I’m feeling.”

  “Sorry, we’re only joking,” said Ellie.

  “Okay, no, I did not get laid, and yes, I did have a great evening. It’s hard to explain. Married to your mum for so long, I‘m not up to speed with chat up lines, so I found a buddy instead. His name’s Bill.”

  “Oh my God! You're not turning are you, dad? Don’t tell me it was gay night!” said Steve.

  “No, don’t worry. He’s an old hand at the singles’ club game, and he sort of filled me in with the rules. It was hilarious. He’s invited me to a singles’ dance on Saturday.”

  “But did you talk to any women?” asked Ellie.

  “Yeah, there was just the one. Her name was Petal.” Jamie relayed the event and the kids were in stitches.

  “It sounds like you’ve met a good friend. Don’t forget we‘ll go shopping on Saturday and see if we can’t bring you up to date a little,” said Ellie as she cleared the breakfast table.

  Later that morning when Jamie arrived at work, the concierge, John bid him good day.

  “Good morning, John, have a nice day,” replied Jamie, saluting.

  Entering the elevator Jamie looked down at his fly just to make sure everything was in order. Feeling great all around, he marched into his office with a head of steam. The phone rang and Mary answered as he approached.

  “Hi, John, JJ’s just walked in and it’s looking good. Even restyled his hair.”

  Jamie knew they had been talking behind his back. Mary continued even though he could hear.

  “Quiet everyone, JJ’s here and he’s in a good mood. Oh,” she winked at him, “and he’s got a funny hairstyle, so no laughing.”

  Everyone sighed with relief and went about their work as Jamie looked over his people.

  “Good morning everyone,” he beamed. “Are you all ready to do battle today?”

  “Ready, boss,” they all replied in unison.

  “Right, Mary, get me the file on Martin’s Brewery. Let’s see if we can’t pick up the account for that new beer they’re introducing.”

  Mary brought him his coffee as he studied the file.

  “How was your evening, JJ?” asked Mary, as everyone edged toward his desk pretending to be working.

  “All right you guys, I have to hand it to you. Thanks for the application form. I had a great night.”

  G
athered around his desk, he filled in his group with the gossip, leaving them all in fits of giggles.

  “Right, now can we have some work out of you? We’ll have a brainstorming meeting in the conference room in five minutes. I want to see if we can’t put something together to pitch for the Martin’s Brewery account.”

  “Incidentally, JJ, love the hair. It makes you look ten years younger,” said Mary.

  Jamie felt flustered. He hadn’t given any thought to his new hairstyle, and his face started to flush as he changed the subject.

  “Get Ted Martin at Martin’s Brewery on the phone and make an appointment to pitch for their account. We should be ready in seven days. I’ve heard on the grapevine they’re not happy with the competition.”

  Jamie made his way to the conference room. Once everyone sat down, Mary came into the room looking anxious.

  “What seems to be the problem, Mary?”

  “Ted Martin, that’s what. He wants to see us right away.”

  “What does ‘right away’ mean?”

  “He’s on the 15th floor at Hawthorne, Springsteen, his accountants, and he’s on his way down here.”

  “Don’t panic. Have you all got your Xerox brief? Right, get reading it and I’ll go meet him.”

  Jamie arrived at the elevator just in time to meet him.

  “Hi, Mr. Martin, Jamie Jameson. I’m leading the team on the pitch for your account, but we’re only at the brainstorming stage.”

  “Don’t worry, Jamie. By the way you can call me Ted.”

  “That’s great, you can call me JJ if you like, whatever suits you.”

  “Listen, JJ, I’m in a bit of a pickle here. The product’s already brewing and we don’t have a marketing plan in place. It’s a long story so I won’t bore you. I’m grabbing at straws here, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to sit in on the brainstorming session. Maybe I can prod you in the right direction?”

  “Fine, follow me, but I have to warn you, these sessions can degenerate into something pretty wild. Our creative people have to be free thinking to come up with ideas. Then there’s a process to make sense of it all before we pitch. So please, don’t judge us by what you hear.”