LOOKING FOR TROUBLE
Devoted wife, house full of kids, money in the bank.
For some passengers, it’s still not enough
Around midnight, a fella in his mid-thirties hurried out of the Bondi Hotel and approached the cab. ‘Where to, mate?’, I asked, hitting the meter and easing away. ‘Where do you suggest?’, he countered. He was looking to bat on yet had no idea where to do so late on a Sunday night.
‘What are you after’, I asked. ‘Just somewhere for a quiet drink or you wanna tear it up?’. He took a deep breath and paused to consider his preferences. Finally he said, ‘I want to go somewhere there are beautiful girls dancing – somewhere dark, but not strippers. Girls I can have a drink with and talk to’.
When I suggested a men’s club, of which there are a few in Sydney, he took offence: ‘What, you mean lap-dancers?’
‘Yeah, in the city’, I said. ‘Those girls are classier than strippers, but do pole dancing and stuff’. By now I was guessing, having never been inside a men’s club.
‘Nah, they’re just sluts who take your money’, he spat with some disgust. ‘I want regular women out for a good time’. I considered suggesting it was a fine distinction, but thought better of it.
‘Well, in that case you’ve got a number of choices’, I told him, ‘depending on how much money you have and the type of conversation you’re after’.
‘Put it this way’, he said, ‘I’m a married man with three kids. It’s not like I’m trying to pick up or anything. I just want to be close to beautiful women dancing. I want to watch them, you know what I mean?’.
No, I thought, but I’ll indulge you for a $20 fare.
‘I’ll take you to the Cross’, I said, ‘there’s a pub up there with a disco on the first floor’. After heading off I asked him, ‘You’re not from Sydney?’.
‘Yeah, I am, but I’ve been married for twelve years and never go out. I’ve got no idea about the night life’.
‘So how come you’re out tonight?’, I asked.
‘I felt like doing something different’, he replied.
After a high-profile career as a sportsman he owned and operated a chain of very successful businesses. The job exposed him to many women who thought he was wonderful, yet complained endlessly about their husbands and boyfriends. Whilst he was a good looking bloke, he had managed to stay faithful to his wife. Until he succumbed to the advances of a woman from work. ‘You slept with her?’, I asked.
‘No, but we had sex – and you know what’, he said, ‘I told my wife!’
‘Jeez, mate, you’re a thrillseeker’, I said. ‘How did she take it?’
‘Not too bad’, he said, ‘once I told her it was just sex and nothing emotional. I mean, sex on its own is simply plumbing. It’s love and affairs which threaten women’.
We approached Kings Cross in silence and I thought about what my passenger had told me. He was clearly thinking, too. A man who’d been with the one partner most of his adult life. It must feel like a betrayal of sorts I figured, no matter how one rationalised it. ‘Oh well’, I finally piped up, ‘at least you’re honest about it’.
What else could I say? It was tempting to suggest that if he was in any way fair, he must now extend the same right to his wife, though he came across as too egotistical to do so. Indeed, he never once mentioned that he loved his wife, or praised their marriage.
Whether he realised it or not, the dynamic in their long-term relationship was now altered, maybe irrevocably. Having tasted illicit sex he was now insisting he just wanted to watch beautiful women dancing. Late on a Sunday night. Yeah, right.
Good luck, mate. You’ll need it.
Read more of Adrian the Cabbie at www.cablog.com.au