Three's company
SO, LET’S break form. Normally I use this column to tell you what I did on a recent Saturday night. As if that’s not boring enough, in this our 10th-anniversary issue I’ve decided to take you back in time and tell you what I was doing Saturday night 10 years ago. (Are you still here? Wow, you must be starved for entertainment.) This will be like watching an episode of Three’s Company. The clothing and hairstyles are severely outdated but the overall theme still applies: a goofy, straight white guy just trying to get laid. Let’s hope there’s some tail at the Regal Beagle tonight!
So, it’s Saturday night and I’m at Brian’s Ivy Hall in downtown Lowell. More casually referred to as “three floors of whores,” this triple-story watering hole is the best social option in town. Due to its proximity to the New Hampshire border, “the hall” is a great place to see trashy girls from Nashua and all the latest fashion from Chess King. (Apparently, tucking your sweatshirt into your jeans is trendy. Who knew?)
I’m out with a friend of mine who we’ll call Larry. As we do most Saturday nights, Larry and I are meeting our friends on the second floor of the aforementioned three so that we can drink a few pitchers of beer, throw darts, and try to determine which of our female friends we’re going to sleep with tonight. (Hey, c’mon — it happens.) But tonight is a bit different, because we’re celebrating my new job. I just landed a position at a new nightlife magazine that’s starting up in Boston called Stuff@night. Yeah, I know: dumb name. But who cares? I finally have my first real Boston gig! I hope I get cool business cards.
As we finish our third $5 pitcher of beer, we spot Larry’s ex-girlfriend, who’s now dating an old friend of ours. Her dad runs the local country club and, while they were seeing each other last summer, Larry and I got to golf for free. Unfortunately, her passion for chasing around little white balls ruined our ability to do the same. Larry caught her cheating and broke up with her three months ago. Hungry and hoping to avoid the ex’s golf “pro,” we say goodbye to our friends and take off.
As we walk the few blocks to our favorite late-night eatery, Larry and I get high and talk about my new job, his old girl, and our need to get out of Lowell. For some, living in a small town can be like watching the Lifetime network: the acting is bad and no matter how long you stick around, all you find is drama. “I wonder where we will be in 10 years,” he says. “Well, I can tell you one thing, I won’t be out every Saturday night, that’s for sure,” I reply. “Let’s get our food to go. I think Nick at Nite is showing a Three’s Company marathon tonight. Maybe Jack and Larry will finally get laid.” @
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