“There’s been a shocking shortage of togas in my life,” she said on the phone.
I considered her remark for a moment, running through the past years of coffee dates, dinner dates, dessert dates, assorted cocktails. Cocktail napkins for that matter. Quite right. Not a toga among them. Hell, not even a Third Date toga. You know, for Third Date Sex, which really ought to be about fun, shouldn’t it?
Still – no togas. Briefs, yes. Boxers, yes. Boxer briefs. Even one string. (OMG, I ran.) And one “commando.” (Oh yeah, I stayed.)
But togas? Nope. And I think that’s a shame.
Essential lesson in cultural history
What could explain this dramatic absence of draping and debauchery? I understand the 80s are flash dancing their way back into fashion. Isn’t it time to resurrect a toga party or two? Fine specimens of leggy men, oh-so-at-ease, and easily accessible?
Of course we owe our former toga trend to that post-modernist masterpiece, 1978’s Animal House (and John Belushi) with its rude, raucous reveling that has persisted in frat houses ever since. It’s as simple as grabbing that bed sheet, bad beer, and diving into a night of neanderthal nookie!
Of course a woman of my refined sensibilities desires something other than a polyester sheet and a Bud. Perhaps more akin to Gladiator‘s Russell Crowe, or Alexander‘s Colin Farrell?
As for Crowe, I must admonish the Hollywood costumers for that disappointing skirt length. Screw realism and give us some thigh! Now Farrell is quite the dashing bad boy, and mmm-mmm good in most anything. But I just don’t buy him as a blond.
Then there’s Brad Pitt in the 2004 epic, Troy. Scrumptious! Legs, thighs, arms. His evening toga-wear definitely offered a gift worth unwrapping. And oh, that six pack! Which appears to bring us back to beer.
Whatever the beverage on tap, couldn’t we all do with more togas and Trojans around the house?
Why did my friend raise the issue of men in togas? I suspect something in the air – a tender breeze whispering sweet nothings in her libido’s ear… she’s a single mom hottie, and a red-blooded American babe after all.
Thus – my recognition of (hidden?) market demand. Available positions abound. So should any of you (gentlemen) care to don this retro-chic apparel (hey, Halloween is just around the corner) – it’s as simple as bed linens with a twist, though may I suggest a 500 count Egyptian cotton?
Actually, you can make a toga fast and easy, then trick-or-treat in my leafy little neighborhood.
And fair is fair; if you show me yours, I’ll show you mine. We single mothers are very friendly during holiday season, and many of us are seeking domestic assistance. Toga required; pay, negotiable.
© D A Wolf