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Well Mate?

J. Charles Furman

    With wavy golden blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, a salt water tan that radiated his chiseled features and a six foot muscular physique, the only way to describe Glenn Darling, would be absolutely drop dead gorgeous.
    Glenn slipped into a long sleeve white dress shirt, admiring his initials monogrammed on its cuffs. He looked out the bedroom window, realizing that except for the dismal bumper to bumper traffic, crawling along Park Avenue, the view of Manhattan from his digs up on the twenty-seventh floor, was simply magnificent.
    Dressed in a grey Armani suit, and matching tie, Glenn departed for the dining room.
    Breakfast had just been delivered from a nearby coffee shop. Glenn dug a fork into a bacon and egg omelet, while leisurely reading the Wall Street Journal. Then, for the lack of anything better, he scanned through the personal section entitled woman seeking men, in this month’s copy of Bravo Macho. To him most of these ads were downright hilarious. And he believed the ladies who placed them, to be pathetic individuals. Glenn was thoroughly convinced any woman who thought so little of themselves, that they’d stoop to placing an ad in the personals, was either homely, desperate, or just horny as hell; or possibly all of the above. It was obvious to him that these females must have very little self esteem. They probably didn’t feel comfortable or have the confidence to go to any singles bars. Certainly not the fast moving swank joints Glenn Darling frequented.
    For some strange reason one unusual ad caught Glenn’s attention. The bold vivacious phrasing of it is what made him stop to think about it for a couple of seconds. Glenn shook his head, sarcastically chuckled and tossed the copy of Bravo Macho on the table. But as much as he tried to dismiss that stupid little annoying ad, that read, “Well, mate?” The more it dwelled on his mind. He then, stared at the cover of Bravo Macho, with contempt, repeating the words, “Well, mate?” Who the heck is this woman kidding, with that, Well, mate, crap? He thought. Then as if he had no control over himself, Glenn reached out, grabbing the magazine, quickly flipping through its pages, until he found the ad once again. After reading it several times over, Glenn came to the conclusion that he detested the woman who placed that stupid classified ad in personals of Bravo Macho.
    Because he had an important ten o’clock meeting at the office, he guzzled what little coffee was left in the container. By now the usually self-composed, Glenn Darling, was in a rage at the thought of that idiotic ad, and those two stupid little words, “Well, mate?”
    Glenn was so furious, at that ridiculous ad that instead of saving the copy of Bravo Macho, as he usually did, he uncharacteristically threw it into the garbage compactor. But being it wasn’t full, he never flipped the switch.
    On his way to the door, Glenn adjusted the knot on his tie, and gave the dining room the once-over. Outgoing containers, packets of salt and sugar, were scattered on the table, some were lying on the floor. He realized the place was a mess. Thank God, the cleaning lady will be coming the first thing tomorrow morning, he thought, grabbing the attaché and dashing out of the apartment.
    Glenn hailed a cab. On his way downtown, Glenn thought about the ad in the personals of Bravo Macho. He tried to picture what the anonymous woman who had placed that classified looked like. Because the manner in which she had phrased her ad, anyone reading it, would have been under the impression, that this woman definitely thought who the hell she was. The nerve of her, Glenn contemplated. He stepped out of the cab and into a skyscraper on Lexington Avenue, muttering to himself. “Well isn’t that unusual, a woman who thinks her shit doesn’t stink.” On his journey across the busy lobby to the bank of elevators, he thought, it’s quite obvious, she’s just another full of shit broad. Because any woman that was “all that,” certainly wouldn’t have to resort to placing an ad in the personals.
    After cheerfully exchanging warm greetings with co-workers, the elevator doors slide open. Glenn, along with a horde of other people, forged their way onto the crammed chamber. At this point, all he could think about was that unique ad in the personals, and the anonymous woman who had placed it. He began to realize, that if nothing else, at least her approach to it was different. Because this woman’s ad wasn’t the perennial mundane, rally around the flag rhetoric, most of the females submitted to glorify the boring existence. All her ad said, was “Well, mate?” What the hell’s that supposed to mean? He thought.
    Glenn Darling had been reading personals for years. To him, it was somewhat of a measuring stick. If only to see what devices the undesirables used to get the opposite sex into bed; or how they used the personals as a vehicle for trapping their newest unsuspecting mate. All in all, reading the personals was just a form of amusement, and a means of entertainment, to a popular ladies man like Glenn Darling. Who in his wildest dreams would never considered answering any of those personal ads. Or waste his precious time, giving any of those classifieds a second thought. Until this morning, that is.
    After all, Glenn Darling was an attractive thirty six year old bachelor. A successful ad exec, at one of the nation’s leading advertising agencies. The board of directors had recently voted him senior vice president of the firm. A lavish high rise apartment on Manhattan’s Upper East Side had been his home for the past several years. There along with a summer retreat in the Hamptons, is where he entertained some of the most gorgeous ladies in the world.
    Glenn was a womanizing ego-maniac, who over the years had earned quite a reputation with the ladies. With an extensive wardrobe of designer clothes, he made a point of dressing the role of a man about town, even if he was only going for a walk or a cup of coffee. But Glenn was so gorgeous, that he could have worn hand-me-downs and still would have been easy on the eyes. Besides, Glenn Darling wasn’t your average everyday heart-throb. This suave and debonair gentleman, with a quick-witted sense of humor, was without a doubt, one dashing individual. And of course, woman undoubtedly enjoyed being in his company.
    Wherever he went, females would helplessly flock around the charming Mr. Darling, initiating small talk, while ogling at this handsome kisser. Some of the more aggressive young ladies he encountered would often scribble a brief but enticing message on their business card. Then discreetly slip it into Glenn’s jacket pocket.
    Ladies were desperately falling all over themselves to bang down his door. The last thing anyone as striking as Glenn Darling needed, to be in the company of a different female whenever he so desired, was the aid of a classified ad in the personal columns.
    For the duration of the morning, and even during the ten o’clock meeting with the board of directors, Glenn continually recited those two little annoying words, “Well, mate?” The audacity of that bitch, he thought. Who the hell does she think she is any way? It was as if she was challenging the entire male species, to see what it was she had to offer, he contemplated.
    By the way the young lady subtly stated those two simple little words, “Well, mate?” plus, the arrogant manner, in which she so shrewdly laced each word with a seductive ring, it was obvious, that she believed, she had something going on for herself that no man could resist. Which had a hip and savvy guy like Glenn, believing that chic must be under the impression that no guy’s good enough for her. Just a load of self indignation, he thought. Sure, that’s because as a teenager some schmuck must have broken her poor little heart, he suspected. So now, beneath it all, she’s probably just a man hating bitch. Whose only ambition, is taking her revenge out on the entire male population. He also concluded, by the elegant manner in which this anonymous woman expressed herself that this beauty was actually attempting to make an all out effort to demean men. In fact, Glenn realized he saw through all of her bullshit, right from the get go. Of course, this prima donna was totally convinced that no man on the face of this planet was good enough for her.
    “What a crock a shit that is.” Glenn thought, while escorting some out of town clients to lunch. While entertaining them, he desperately tried to forget that silly little ad; but for the remainder of lunch, and the duration of the day, it subconsciously kept playing tricks with his sanity. The more he attempted to convince himself, that he could give two shits less, about the ad and the frustrated woman who placed it, the more it began to weight on his mind. It was as if he was totally consumed with that annoying ad, and those two stupid little words that merely read, “Well, mate?” and the anonymous woman who placed it.
    Most evenings after work, if Glenn didn’t have a dinner date, he’d meet up with some of his cronies at the Last Oasis, on East Forty-Seventh Street. At cocktail hour, this dimly lilted cocktail lounge was always mobbed from wall to wall with hordes of people which included an assortment of some of the most exquisite Ladies in Manhattan. In Glenn’s opinion, most of them were either disillusioned singles, divorced or cheaters looking to change their luck for the night. With a piano bar and a small parquet dance floor, the Last Oasis was definitely Glenn Darlings kind of hangout. But tonight he had other plans.
    After picking up take out at Wok Around the Clock. Glenn walked uptown along Third Avenue, in hopes of finding a vacant taxi. In his travels all he could think about was that self indulging woman, who had placed the unique but sensuous ad in Bravo Macho. At Fifty-Second Street, he noticed some people getting out of a cab and without wasting a moment quickly jumped into the back seat.
    On the journey uptown to his high-rise on Park Avenue, Glenn desperately tried just about anything to forget that ridiculous classified ad in Bravo Macho. For some reason or other it constantly kept bugging the shit out of him. The odor of spare ribs and shrimp in lobster sauce, coming from the bag resting on his lap was certainly working on his appetite.
    Then from out of the blue, as if obsessed, Glenn suddenly visualized the anonymous woman who had placed the ad seated in his dining room. There she was sitting across the table from him, all decked out, in a shear skintight low-cut outfit. The fabric clung tightly to her shapely figure. He anxiously envisioned her reaching for the long stem wine glass, then bringing it up to her luscious lips. Glenn couldn’t help but notice, the garment firmly wrenching against the contour of her seductive body. With each little move she made, emphasizing every curve of her anatomy
    He then began to imagine, they were in the midst of dining on the food he had picked up at Wok Around the Clock. They couldn’t take their eyes off each other for a moment. He knew this would be the perfect opportunity, to take advantage of the situation. So he quickly dug his chop sticks into the container, pulling out a shrimp. He then reached across the table, placing the crustacean between her perfectly formed fiery red lips. As she bite into it, Glenn instantly kicked the chair out from under him. Then he leaned forward, until his teeth grasped the portion of shrimp dangling from her mouth. The thought of both of them nibbling on the same piece of shrimp, was beginning to arouse Glenn. He was now envisioning their mouths touching savagely, as they chewed on the shrimp simultaneously. Long after it had been devoured, he pictured their lips were still passionately pressing against each others, the tips of their tongues endlessly fencing in the dark of their mouths.
    In an attempt to see where this erotic day-dreaming was going, and to make sure it didn’t come to an end until he visualized the outcome, Glenn eased back into the seat, and shut his eyes for the remainder of the trip, purposely blocking out all thoughts of anything else. He couldn’t believe he was actually fantasizing about some anonymous woman. Someone he didn’t even know. Except for what he had read in that stupid little ad, she had placed in the personals of Bravo Macho. Glenn realized, for someone as popular as himself, who had dated tons of ladies, he was certainly out of character; definitely not acting himself. Sure as a kid, he always imagined himself romancing some Hollywood starlet he considered hot. But as an adult, he couldn’t remember the last time he had a whim, or dreamed about any woman.
    To an insensitive chauvinistic individual such as Glenn Darling women were only objects. Who were put on this earth for one reason, and one reason only, his own satisfaction? So he couldn’t understand why was he, so totally engrossed with a woman he had never seen or even met before?
    The romantic fantasy he was having with this anonymous woman, had left Glenn so excited, that he almost didn’t hear the driver calling out. “Hey pal, wake up, this is your stop. That’ll be three and a quarter.”
    Glenn gleefully greeted the tall doorman. Who while holding the huge glass door open, made a comment, about how unusual it was to see him getting home at such an early hour. Of course Glenn made light of it, with a clever remark, which had left the doorman chuckling, as he watched Glenn step onto the empty elevator.
    On the ride up to the twenty-seventh floor, he tried to persuade himself, that that idiotic ad in Bravo didn’t really matter to him in the least. The woman who placed it was probably nothing more than a horny, frustrated old bag. Who, if nothing else, had a good command of the language, which she proficiently applied in a cunning and teasing fashion?
    But what significance, if any, should this have on a sharp guy like Glenn Darling. Who, in his opinion, and the opinion of his cronies, along with most of the ladies in this town, all unanimously agreed, Mister Glenn Darling, was one of Manhattan’s most eligible bachelors. With more females chasing after him then he knew what to do with. Why should some anonymous woman, be so intriguing to a ladies’ man like him.
    Glenn prided himself on being able to spot a conniving, cock teasing female from a mile away. He met them all. By now he was immune to their over-zealous come ons. Their flirtatious methods would have left most guys high and dry. These so-called Romeos would be panting with frustrations, before the evening was over. Because all they’d get for their trouble, was nothing more than a good nights kiss on the cheek. But Glenn knew how to handle ladies who came on like a tease. In fact he enjoyed nothing better than breaking down their tantalizing ways. Often bragging about it to friends afterwards, saying something like. “Remember that pecker-bender I picked up at the Oasis the other night; the one with the bleach blond hair, who came across with an attitude. As if she thought, she could purr, ‘jump’ and all the boys would instantly shout back, ‘how high mistress.’ Well fellows, I inherited a leach and there’s no getting rid of her now. At least six or seven times a day, she’d leave some dumb message on my answer phone. Of course, I haven’t even attempted to call her back, not once. But I guess that young lady just can’t take a hint. It seems as much as I try avoiding her, the more my phone keeps ringing off the hook. I knew it was a mistake giving her my number in the first place.” He’d boast with a smug expression, before saying something cruel, like. “Hey fellows, do you believe the other night I actually prayed she’d eventually lose my damn number. I’ve already changed it twice this year. So I’m really not looking forward to doing it again. Perhaps with some luck, she’d, get transferred to her firm’s office in Bei-Jing.”
    Of course Glenn Darling always kept a couple of ladies on a string, for those evenings he didn’t care to go carousing. Obviously, one didn’t realize the other existed. Although he never said it in so many words, in his own cagey way, he had all of these young ladies believing, if they played their cards right, perhaps someday in the near future, anyone of them could be his next main squeeze. But Glenn Darling’s only main squeeze was Glenn Darling.
    This shallow individual sincerely believed he was God’s gift to woman. Who, in spite of it all, when it came to ladies, one way or the other Glenn always managed to get his way? Up to this point in time, he certainly hadn’t met a lady, who was capable of ruffling his masculine feathers.
    While stepping off the elevator, the ad he had been desperately trying to forget began tapping away at his senses once again. “Go ahead, keep it up you bitch,” he mumbled standing in the vestibule that lead to his apartment. “And you might just get more than you bargained for.” He certainly didn’t take kindly to the way that ad was getting the best of him. “I need this shit like a hole in my head.” He muttered, in an attempt to convince himself that it really was of no importance to him. Then while fumbling for the keys in his pocket, he mouthed with determination, “I’ll put this sweetie-pie straight if it’s the last thing I do.”
    The first thing Glenn did, after changing into something a little more comfortable, was devourer the take out from Wok Around the Clock. Then he went to the bar to make himself a double scotch on the rocks. Glenn wasn’t much of a boozer. But whenever he found himself confronted with a dilemma, which up to now never included woman, he believed liquor gave him a broader perspective on things. So he instantly polished off the scotch in one swift gulp. It went down nice and easy. He immediately poured himself another and downed it in one quick swig and placed the empty glass on the counter.
    With no further delay, he hurried over to a magazine rack anxiously fumbling his way through the publications. When he couldn’t find the issue of Bravo Macho he was looking for, he became a madman, ranting and raving, “Where the fuck did I put this month’s issue of Bravo Macho?” Obsessed and discouraged, he began whipping out one magazine after another, from the rack haphazardly tossing each of them aside. When he finally came across a copy of Bravo Macho, he felt relieved. To ease the tension he felt rippling through his body, Glenn dropped down into an easy chair situated next to the magazine rack. He sat on the edge of it, enthusiastically flipping through its pages. When he eventually found the classified section, he eagerly scanned for the personals woman seeking men. He anxiously ran his finger down the column, briefly reading each of the ads. With no luck, Glenn suddenly realized he had the wrong copy of Bravo Macho. The publication he was interested in was this month’s edition. Because after all the times in the past, that he had read the personals in it, he couldn’t recollect ever seeing the ad he was desperately searching for, prior to this morning.
    Glenn immediately went back to pulling the remaining magazines out of the rack. Whenever he came across a copy of Bravo Macho he automatically looked at the date. Before long, the rack was eventually empty and the floor was blanketed with magazines. He wondered what the hell he could have possibly done with that recent copy of Bravo Macho.
    He wandered about like a man possessed. Glenn quickly began ransacking the entire apartment. With no success he decided to fix himself another double scotch on the rocks. With no time to lose, he immediately gulped it down, than continued turning the apartment inside-out and upside-down. In between he poured himself another double scotch on the rocks. Knocked it off, and hopelessly walked into the kitchen. That’s when it suddenly hit him. “Holy shit!” He gleefully shouted like a man who had just discovered he hit the lotto. He dashed over to the garbage compactor, grabbing its handle, and yanking open the small door. On the top of the pile of garbage was the copy of Bravo Macho he had been hunting for. With a sigh of relief he quickly pulled it out.
    Glenn’s face blossomed with joy as he flipped through the pages strolling towards the personals. When he finally found the ad that had been toying with and torturing his mind, for the better part of the day, Glenn anxiously read it. His face suddenly twisted with contempt.
    He headed to the bar, poured himself a drink, took a sip and placed the half empty glass on the coffee table. From his vest pocket he took a multi-colored pen and circled the ad he had been searching for in red. Then he lifted the glass and held it up to the vicinity of the small ad as if he were toasting it and thought: This is one smug lady. “Well missy,” He boldly announced before taking another long sip, emptying the oversized glass. Glenn lowered the goblet from his mouth, and with a sarcastic grin planted into his stunning face, lifted the glass again. “Here’s to you, and your stupid little ad, Missy.” He took another swig, and then focused on the tiny ad, circled in red. With a degree of self determination, he proudly raised the glass, cleared his throat, and reassuringly broadcasted, “Young lady, you’ve must be used to playing around with a bunch of goody two-shoes, mommas boys, I presume.” He bellowed, with a drunken slur laced to his every word. Then as if she was actually in the room, he continued, “Be prepared for a real man sweetheart. Something I sincerely doubt you can handle. But as long as you had the nerve to challenge me, darling, I guess it’s only fair to warn you this is one liaison you definitely won’t forget.” As if the glass was a torch, he held it above his head, boasting, “If only to take you down a notch or two you bitch. But I’ll guarantee you this much, you sanctimonious witch, before it’s all over you’ll enjoy the slide so much that you’ll be begging me to bring you down another few notches if just for the mere pleasure of it. So being the charitable individual that I’ve been known to be in the past, I just might oblige you.”
    Glenn flung the empty glass, victoriously onto a nearby sofa then shuffled unsteadily over to the bar. He grabbed the bottle of scotch, and headed towards the computer, laughing to himself. While contemplating how he wouldn’t have even wasted his time answering her ad but unfortunately for this young lady, she had to come off with that fucking attitude of hers and an air about herself, as if she was so fucking high and mighty. “We’ll soon see about that,” he shouted. Unbalanced he wobbled down into a club chair, staring at the blank monitor of his P.C. Pressing the on button the screen illuminated. He took a swig straight out of the bottle and roared, “How smug and high and mighty are she’s going to be, when you’re desperately trying to rip down my door? And what’ll you do for an encore, when security shamefully marches you out of the building, run up and down the sidewalks of Manhattan shouting, ‘Well, mate?’ You’ll be popping in and out of every lounge, night club and gin mill, hoping to catch me sitting all by my lonesome, eh sweetie.” He lectured as if the anonymous woman were actually in his presence. “So, let’s hypothetically say, you eventually did track me down. Well, what are you going to do next?” Walk into the place, while trying to maintain you’re cool, by nonchalantly strolling over to me as if you could care less. Care less, that’s a joke, in reality the blood I’ll be rushing through your veins and your heart will be pumping with anxiety. Then you’ll graciously offer to buy me a drink. Big deal! Because before, we part company sweetheart, you’ll learn what happens to young ladies who think their all that especially those beauties who try shoving it in my face.
    He sat in front of his PC, clicked it into word document mode and opened a new file. Glenn then spent the next ten minutes or so contriving a most charming and seductive letter. What he had written seemed to have satisfied his intoxicated mind. Content and foggy from booze Glenn dozed off in the chair in front of the PC. Hours later, at several minutes before seven he woke up. The letter he had typed was still on the computers screen. After carefully reading every word, he printed it out. Then grabbed a pen and proudly put his signature at the bottom of the letter stuffed it along with a picture of himself into a stamped envelope which he addressed to the anonymous woman care of Bravo Macho.
    After creating such a sensuous letter, Glenn Darling certainly had no intentions of waiting until he left for the office later this morning to mail it out. Because he knew by the time he headed out of the building the mailman would have already have made his pick-up for the day.
    Still somewhat woozy, Glenn took the envelope and staggered out of the apartment, into the corridor. He then took an elevator to the lobby where he deposited the letter into the building’s mail box.
    As he walked back onto the elevator, he heard a voice. “Hold the door for me, would you Mr. Darling?”
    Glenn turned to see his cleaning lady, Peggy Nicholson running across the lobby. He quickly pressed the button that held the doors from closing. She stepped onto the elevator. The doors closed behind her.
    With suspicion, Peggy Nicholson looked up at Glenn and asked. “Don’t tell me you’re first getting in at this ungodly hour you naughty boy, you?”
    “No Peg! And stop looking at me like that you snoop. For your information, not that it’s your business but this evening I was home at a normal hour. I just came down to mail a letter.”
    “At this hour?” she said, with disbelief. “It couldn’t have waited. This must’ve been quite an important letter?”
    Glenn grinned at her, shrugging his shoulders. He wasn’t interested in talking to her of all people, about the letter he had just mailed to the anonymous woman who placed the classified ad in Bravo Macho. While he thought of what to say to change the subject, without being too obvious about it, he then glanced down at the small elderly widow whose face was wrinkled and worn from hard work, worry and age. But to his surprise, today he noticed she was made up. In all the years Peggy had been cleaning for him, he couldn’t remember ever seeing her with lipstick and eye shadow. He even detected the fragrance of perfume coming from her. Perfect he thought, before informing her. “I almost didn’t recognize you this morning, Peg.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “Well look at yourself. I could have sworn it was Jennifer Lopez running onto the elevator.”
    “Stop the baloney, Glenn. Save it for one of your girl friends.”
    “I’m not handing you any baloney gorgeous. By the way you’ve made yourself up this morning you look beautiful. So what’s the occasion?”
    “No occasion! But I’ve finally decided to take your advice.”
    “My advice” Glenn asked as if in shock. “Since when did you start taking my advice?”
    “When I realized how right you were. Always telling me to get out and start dating. After all Walter has been dead close to eight years.”
    The elevator doors opened. With Peggy hanging onto Glenn’s arm, together they walked the corridor to his apartment.
    “C’mon Peg, we’re old cronies. If you’ve got a date with some dashing Romeo after doing my place, don’t be shy with me after all these years.” He pushed open the door and together they walked into Glenn’s apartment. He anxiously said. “Fill me in on the details.”
    “No date! Not yet. But this afternoon I’m going to dating service for seniors.”
    “That’s great, Peg, I hope you find your heart-throb,” he said, watching her open the broom closet.
    “Me! What about you,” she said looking over her shoulder and reaching for a couple of rags and a dust mop. “When are you going to stop running around and finally settle down?”
    “I’m working on it Peg.”
    “It’s the same song and dance. You’ve been working on it ever since I met you.”
    “Peg you must excuse me, but I’m a little bushed. So I’m going to grab some zee’s’, before going down to the office.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out some dough. Whipped off a couple of twenties and handed it to her. “I wish you luck at the dating service.”
    “Thanks Glenn,” Peggy said, brushing the dust broom up and down against the verticals. “But I’m not relying solely on that dating service.”
    “What does that mean?” Glenn inquisitively asked, stopping at the door less entrance as he walked out of the room.
    “It means, being I’m an amateur at dating, I realized who knows more about the subject than you. So like you always said, ‘when it comes to the opposite sex never put all your eggs in one basket.’ So besides using the dating service as a means of finding myself a beau, I placed an ad in the personals of one of the magazines that you subscribe to.”
    “That I subscribe to?”
    “That’s right! Bravo Macho!”
    “Huh, Bravo Macho” Glenn replied as if in shock.
    “Of course! Where else? And keeping in mind how you always tell me, so not to get walked all over by the opposite sex we have to be shrewd and cunning. So, of course, thinking of you when I placed the ad, I phrased it in a clever manner, using only two simple words, Well Mate.”
    “What?” Glenn Darling shrieked.
    “Well, what do you think of my catchy phrase?”
    Suddenly feeling like a total idiot, Glenn never answered Peggy. He just ran past her almost tripping over the coffee table, and bumped into the wall as he headed out the door, hoping he would make it to the lobby in time to intercept the mailman.

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