I had planned on writing something else. In fact, I had already started writing something else. But, alas, fate intervened. In this instance, I had to make a judgment call. I choose a very recent first-hand experience over a carefully laid out argument on a more serious subject. Because it’s fresh and because it makes a good story.
Today, I made a dinner reservation at a Spanish-Italian joint I’ve never been before. That, in itself, is a bit of a sensation, as I’ve been to most Spanish, Italian and other restaurants around Zurich. The place is known for its open fire grill and wide selection of steak cuts broiled by Jesus, the owner and head chef. It seemed like a good enough reason to give it a try. As it turned out, it was also a good enough reason for a significant proportion of Zurich’s male population. Among sixty guests, I counted four females, my companion included. Since our table wasn’t quite ready when we arrived, we were ushered to the smoker’s lounge and tranquilized with some bubbly on the house. That’s when we first noticed four middle-aged guys engaged in an animated discussion. Judging from the pitch and intensity of the discussion, it was obvious they had already consumed a good deal of red wine. And as it is when you’re stuck in a confined space with a bunch of strangers, there’s a strong temptation to eavesdrop. As it turned out, the conversation revolved around engagement, rings and marriage. One of the guys, let’s call him Pete, had apparently proposed to his girlfriend without informing the others. This breach of trust upset Tom, one of the friends in the group, deeply. He gave Pete a sermon about how vulnerable he was and, therefore, how risky it would be to make such a consequential move after only six months.
Just when it got interesting, we were called to our table. Thankfully, the gentlemen from the smoker’s lounge weren’t long and settled at a table next to ours. That’s when the drama unfolded. I enjoy food and wine and like to give it the attention it deserves. But I couldn’t help noticing when the guy next to Tom suddenly started to sob uncontrollably. I have to admit that it struck me as rather odd to see this grown man cry in public. In the smoker’s lounge earlier, Tom had proclaimed himself a mean-spirited a-hole. But I wondered if that includes making your friends cry. The other two guys seemed to disagree. They started yelling at Tom and calling him names. He didn’t seem to mind.
Eventually, the two other guys left for the smoker’s lounge to let Tom and his still sobbing friend hug it out. They had an intense moment, embraced and visibly made up. When Tom was done, he casually turned towards me. He’d noticed that we had observed them for a while and was in a combative mood. “I might hit on your girl, you know”, he said. And then he offered us a cigarette. He told us how protective he felt about his soon-to-be-engaged friend and what a bad idea it was for him to convert because of his future wife. He also told us that crying in the face of adversity is a sign of weakness. Quite the spiel, but admittedly straightforward and honest. What a character, I thought, but mean-spirited? Not sure.
I have a large group of friends and we’ve spent a lot of time together over the years. But I rarely observe other male groups socializing. You don’t grasp group dynamics as clearly unless you get the chance to look at them from an objective vantage point. Tonight’s encounter was pretty revealing in that respect. Four individuals, completely different from one another but bound by a strange bond of aggressive affection (affectionate aggression?) that transcends resentment. I guess the company of men did deserve a movie after all.