“The Fairer Sex isn’t very fair!” Big John bellowed as he burst into the diner and slapped his ball cap down on the table like an NFL ref throws a yellow flag on the second Sunday in February. “If a woman had half a mind, she’d change it!”

“Just figured that one out, recently, didya’ John?” said Tommy Jones, the elder statesman of the Circular Congregation that shares breakfast at the big round table at the center of the diner. He spoke first because Harry, Jimmy, Arnold, Firewalker, and Hannibal were too busy laughing and spilling their coffee all over their waffles. “What would bring you to make such an utterance?”

At 82 years of age, the most fun Tommy has is confounding Big John Hudson with big words.

“I got on one of those internet dating sites last night,” John said as he tossed his jacket over the back of his chair and sat down. “And no woman trying to get a date over the internet should be that picky.”

“How picky should they be?” snorted Harry Winkle as he motioned to Sarah for a refill of the coffee cup that he spilled while laughing at John’s opening commentary.

“And what makes you think they’re being picky?” chimed in Firewalker as he mentally ran an inventory of Big John’s best and worst points — the worst points were outpacing the best by a substantial margin.

“One asked me how often I bathe,” Big John said.

“You didn’t tell her the truth, did’ya?” huffed Tommy. “That could be a deal breaker, even if she isn’t picky.”

“One of the sites had an advice column on how to act on a date,” John replied.

“That’s assuming you can get a date.” Hannibal King was new to the group, but wasn’t shy about throwing his nickel’s worth into the conversation. “What did it say you should do?”

“Things like noticing if she drinks coffee or tea — and then remembering what kind of tea; smile, nod, and listen; be the best version of me that I can be. I have no idea what that last one even means.”

“It means ‘don’t be you’,” chuckled Jimmy. “Be a different you. But be careful. If things between you and her work out, you’ll have to stay that ‘you’ for the rest of your life.”

“I can’t do that. I have to be me.”

“Then you’re going to have to give up women,” Arnold advised. “You wouldn’t be able to tolerate any woman that likes the real you.”

John thought about Arnold’s comment. “Yep, crazy doesn’t get any better. I wonder why they didn’t bring that up on the internet dating site. You guys have better advice than they did.”

“You should have knowledge of something interesting.” Hannibal offered. He is the most educated of the bunch, with multiple degrees that make him an expert in who knows what. “Be able to talk about something other than paintball and ninjas.”

“If she was once a cheerleader, don’t ask her if she still has her pom-poms.”

“Don’t take her to eat anywhere that offers a bib.”

The circular dating advice was free flowing and lively. Each member of the cluster wanted to impart the best of his courting counsel, regardless of their combined total lack of qualifications.

“Good morning gentlemen — and I use that term loosely.” Sal Saratore was the latecomer to the breakfast table, and was unaware of the topic at hand. “What’s going on?”

“Big John thinks the Fairer Sex isn’t very fair.” Tommy filled Sal in with the Cliff Notes version of the morning’s conversation.

“Just figured that one out, recently, didya’ John?”

 

Larry Wilson is a mostly lifelong resident of Niles. His optimistic “glass full to overflowing” view of life shapes his writing. His essays stem from experiences, compilations and recollections from friends and family. Wilson touts himself as “a dubiously licensed teller of tall tales, sworn to uphold the precept of ‘It’s my story; that’s the way I’m telling it.’” He can be reached at wflw@hotmail.com.