by Valerie Nusbaum
I think I’ve told you before that Randy and I have had some trouble finding another couple to date. We’ve tried it with lots of couples over the years, and while all of them have been lovely people, it just hasn’t clicked, mostly because the men couldn’t find anything to talk about.
I had always thought the problem was that Randy didn’t really know any of the people we’d ventured out with. In each case, the other woman was a friend of mine, and we each had gotten the bright idea to include our husbands in an outing, thinking it would be fun. Most of the time, Randy and the other man just looked at each other with strained smiles and found that they had nothing in common. Of course, that’s perfectly understandable.
Then I realized that we’ve actually been dating Cathy and Wayne for years and had not even realized it. I grew up with Cathy. We were in the first grade together, and we have been friends ever since she cried during an assembly when she was supposed to introduce me as “Citizen of the Month”; I put my arm around her and told her not to worry about it. No big deal. I introduced myself and earned a reputation for being forward. It was Cathy’s fault, but I never blamed her for it.
Wayne was my neighbor when I was growing up, so I’ve known him forever, too. He had flowing black hair with a white streak in it and rode a motorcycle. The two of them getting together was a bit of a surprise, but a pleasant one.
Randy and I have attended Cathy’s Halloween parties almost every year, and have dressed as everything from an aging rock star and magician to apprentice sorcerers at Hogwart’s Academy. Last year, we were a farmer and a cow. Guess which costume I wore? Nope. I was the bovine. It was HOT in that suit, and Randy wouldn’t leave my udders alone. And HE won a prize for something or other.
In turn, Cathy and Wayne have always shown up for our picnics and holiday gatherings. Cathy loves Randy’s scavenger hunts. We’ve shared good times and bad times, and these friends of mine have adopted my husband.
So it came as no surprise when Randy mentioned that we hadn’t had dinner with Cayne (that’s celebrity-speak for “Cathy and Wayne”) in a while. As is the case in almost all relationships, the women are responsible for making the social arrangements, so Cathy and I set up an evening, and we agreed to meet at Famous Dave’s in Frederick a few weeks ago.
Randy and I got there a little early, and Cayne was a little late. They live in West Virginia, so we cut them some slack. It boded well for the evening when Wayne showed up wearing a shirt that was almost identical to Randy’s. Both men wore yellow polos, with a dark blue checkerboard line. They looked like Mutt and Jeff. The two of them immediately started giggling like a couple of ten-year-olds who’d seen some lingerie hanging on a clothesline. The hostess wisely seated us in a booth way in the back of the restaurant.
We were all hungry, so we perused the menu as we talked about our days. For some inexplicable reason, the men focused on the word “sauce” and found it hilarious. We were in a barbecue joint, for crying out loud. Everything comes with sauce, and there were six bottles on the table. Cathy and I shook our heads, knowing that we had a long night ahead of us.
We women spent the next two hours discussing our work, our health, recipes, our families, religion, mutual friends, Cathy’s trip to Pasadena to work on a float in the Tournament of Roses parade, pets, and about a hundred other things.
Randy and Wayne told jokes and kept repeating the word “sauce.” They gave our server a hard time, too. I forget what her name was. It was also the name of a town or city, but I don’t remember which one. Wayne asked her if she’d ever been there. She hadn’t. Maybe it was the name of a car, too. Anyway, the men found that hysterical. I should point out, too, that there was no alcohol involved in this outing.
My hubby laughed and giggled all the way home, and poked me several times during the night to remind me of things that Wayne had said. Their bromance scares me a little. Cathy says that Wayne does the same thing to her. I’m sure we’ll see them again before too long. I hope the men coordinate their outfits again. Maybe Cathy and I should do that, too. That would really freak out Cheyenne or Shiloh or Durango or whatever her name was. She probably quit working at Famous Dave’s after our visit. Who could blame her?
Randy and I are trying out a new couple next week. I’ll let you know how it goes.
In closing, I want to thank Marty Rippeon for the great new toothbrush and for the nice things she said about my column. Marty, I’m waiting for the season when you and Randy both make it on Survivor! Just don’t expect me to visit the island. I don’t do bugs or dirt or smelly people.
