A brave single guy ventures out to look for love in a really wrong place… The netherworld.
No one claims that dating these days is easy – some might even suggest that today’s social scene is just plain dead. So when the “live ones” get away from you at the gym or the club, you may have to start looking elsewhere to find that special someone. The hotties of the past may be out of your league, but hey, it’s not like they’re getting a lot of play these days...
PART 2 – CLUBBIN’ WITH CLEOPATRA
Knowing that Cleopatra was the last of the Macedonian Queens of Egypt (it was on “Jeopardy” the other night, okay?), I wanted to treat her like one. So on her recent world tour stop in New York City, I took her to a popular royal eatery knowneth as Burger King - just kidding!
This Balkan babe was so darn hot – think young Liz Taylor in the body of Liz Tyler - that I just had to show her off. So I suggested we catch the subway downtown and hit one of the Big Apple’s hottest new nightclubs, De Nile. She liked the clubbin’ idea, but the queen of all media had other plans as to how to get there. Not much to my surprise, she wanted to go by boat.
Now I had heard all the rumors - that Cleo was a deceitful, conniving, manipulative bee-otch (interesting historical note: philosophers coined that particular term of endearment after a catfight with a water bearer let to an “accidental” drowning). Funnily enough, she told me she wasn’t a bitch at all, and hypnotized by the snake on her headdress, I believed her.
As we sailed away on the Hudson River, however, there was something bothering me. Perhaps it was the fact that we were not alone. Besides the 20 sweaty hairy horny oarsmen, I was a bit confused as to why Cleo’s muscle-bound Roman general friend Mark Anthony came with us. When the pair whispered and giggled to each other in what sounded like very broken Italian, I became enraged and engorged. What were they saying? Were they talking about me? I demand subtitles! (I got none.)
I couldn’t be mad at Cleo for very long though. One thing needed no translation - Cleo was damn sexy - no doubt about that. What an asp on that girl! She was wearing this little tunic that looked like it was ready to fall off with the slightest of breezes. Sign me up for the toga party!
As we ventured downstream, Cleopatra told us about this great Caesar salad she had for lunch. What a name-dropper! And then she went around the boat and orally pleasured all the oarsmen. Now I had heard the nasty rumors about Cleo’s promiscuous propensities, but I didn’t dare dream that they were true. But there I was, witnessing it first-hand and contently to wait my turn. Finally I was going to get something out of the date, when suddenly the boat lurched to a stop and I realized we had docked at Chelsea Piers. So much for my happy ending!
No matter... I was ready to dance like an Egyptian! But before we landed, Cleo saw her arch-nemesis Octavius talking to a bouncer near the velvet ropes, and suddenly she got all huffy. I was extremely disappointed when she suddenly commanded that we turn the “royal barge” around and head back to Port Yonkers. I was upset. Mark was upset. The oarsmen were actually not upset – they still in a state of blissful shock. Damn, if I learned nothing else from my night out with Cleopatra, it’s that I’m definitely going to apply for an oarsman job on Monday!
Next Time: Part 3 – Jonesin’ with Joan of Arc
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