So Doggone Willing

A friend is fond of telling me that he's scared to go places without me.

Considering his time living in London, Paris and Maine, what he means is that he's scared to do things in Richmond alone.

So when he suggested we check out Happy Hour at the Hipp, I was more than happy to spend some time at J-Ward's newest social gathering with him.

He had some concerns that he'd need to wear a bowtie and he doesn't own one, but I assured him that the event didn't require one.

That said, there was a lot of cologne in the room tonight.

I had not a clue what to expect, so the valet parking, the crowds of well-dressed people, the booming bass of the club DJ and the abundance of friendly men came as a bit of a surprise.

In the short time waiting for my friend to arrive, three guys introduced themselves and I heard a club mix of "Na, Na, Hey, Hey, Kiss Him Goodbye."

It's not every day I sit in a darkened bar with dance music playing and everyone checking each other out.

Once I had company, we got a table and tried to order drinks. My friend's order of a sidecar slightly flummoxed our server who had never heard of such a drink.

While he went to discuss it with the bartender, my friend and I played catch-up with our lives.

He told me about the problems of band members who lose sight of the bigger picture and the satisfactions and frustrations of researching family genealogy.

I told him about receiving unexpected warnings (beware!) and being made to laugh.

After the first couple of hours, a band, Doors Wide Open, replaced the DJ.

Of the smooth jazz quintet my friend dryly observed, "I know they're good, but it sounds like the Weather Channel."

Not long after, though, he also commented that the sound mix was crystalline clear.

Unlike some places his band has played and where I've heard bands (the Camel), the sound was stellar.

We decided to take ourselves next door to Ettamae's and on my way through the lobby, a man stopped me and said, "Hey, you're 27 girl!"

By the same token, he was 27 guy; we'd run into each other eating there on several occasions.

It's s small world in Jackson Ward.

At Ettamae's we took the table right over the oven so we could smell my friend's pizza baking as we chatted and sipped our Septime Malbec.

We picked up a discussion we'd begun a few months ago about the state of his relationship.

He continues to tell me about his dissatisfaction and I continue to recommend that he change what isn't working for him.

"Right," he said as if summing up our talk. "So you're willing to come home and get in my bed so she can find us and walk out?"

Not exactly, although I see where that would be helpful in expediting the end of things for him.

We parted ways on Second Street, him to go home to a girl who is not satisfying his needs and me to meet a friend for dinner at Arcadia.

I'm inclined to think that my evening had more possibilities than his.

My friend was well into a bottle of Kila Cava when I arrived and she and the bartender were already buds.

Buds enough that he already knew a few salient facts about me. Before long, I knew a little about him, too.

Like he was recently out of a long-term relationshop and still understandably hovering on the fringes of a personal life.

I empathized with his being in that place because I inhabited it for several recent years.

He turned out to be a terrific asset to our girltalk, adding in the male point of view and offering advice when we solicited it.

He explained how some guys need a long time to start over after being out of the dating game. How some have a tough time admitting their feelings. It was all very enlightening coming from a man made wiser by love.

At my recommendation, Friend had the chicken thighs with spaetzle and I chose the rock shrimp mac and cheese with aged Gouda cream sauce.

And because it was a lot of arduous talk about guys, we also got the Yukon Gold and sweet potato fries with truffle oil and sea salt.

While we were carbing out, the bartender told us about his parents' long-time happy marriage, then distilled down his relationship goal for once he gets back in the game.

"I want someone I can chase around when I'm ninety," he said simply.

Now there's a worthy goal.

So I guess it's not too far-fetched to say that my goal is to find someone who wants to chase me around when I'm ninety.

But he can't be scared to go places without me. That role is reserved for a certain good friend.