Menage a Spa

Menage a spa
Karen Hall, Windsor Star

There’s an old joke that says every woman’s fantasy is to have two men at the same time: one to cook and one to clean.

I couldn’t help but think of it earlier this week when the town was in a tizzy over the notion of a swingers club coming to Windsor.

Even the strip clubs were taken aback by the fact the Toronto-based Wicked Club wanted to locate here.

“The truth is, we’re intimidated by the idea,” said Rob Katzman, who owns a bunch of adult entertainment places and indicated he wouldn’t touch it with a 10-foot stripper’s pole.

Councillors and business leaders were looking ahead to the possible complications of allowing such a venture within the city limits, while more than one man let his imagination run wild at the thought of a legal romp with a partner who wouldn’t roll over later and ask him to take out the garbage or cut the grass.

I, on the other hand, had an entirely different picture in my head and started thinking of ways to spin off this concept into other money-making opportunities.

It wasn’t that I was trying to be sexist (who am I kidding? Of course I was) but I chose to assume a club devoted to swapping would be more beneficial to the male than the female.

So why not level the playing field?

“Wouldn’t it be great to open a Naggers Club in Windsor?” I asked. “Just think of the possibilities. One man who thinks he’s getting the night of his life with two women, and two women who get to outline his faults. In stereo.

“Two women telling him to take out the garbage. Two women complaining about his mother. Two women who feel they’re misunderstood and taken for granted.

“The next best thing would be a polygamy club,” I said. “Every guy gets five wives for the night. One’s pregnant, one’s pre-menstrual and the other three are having hot flashes. It’s like Desperate Housewives without the Wisteria Lane.”

The women in my group found this hilarious, but I confess the men were not amused. In fact, they were downright insulted.

“So what if this club’s focus was the other way around?” one fella asked. “What if it was one woman and two men?”

I had no trouble with the concept. “Then it would be called The Listeners Club. One man would be instructed to say, ‘So dear, how was your day?’ and he would listen intently as I gave him the minute-by-minute, hour-by-hour rundown, including a conversation with my father’s neighbour’s son-in-law and the plot line of One Life to Live.

“And when I asked ‘Do you think I should buy two pair of shoes because they’re on sale?’ he would say, ‘Darling, buy three. Think of the savings.’ “

“And the other man?” I was asked.

“He would get lunch.”

A grassroots poll suggested this would never work. Not in Windsor. Probably not anywhere.

While men might be enticed to make an initial visit, they would never buy a membership. “They’d run out of that club screaming and never come back,” said a male.

I had no trouble with that concept either. If all the men left the club — Wicked, nagging or otherwise — only the women would be left.

In which case we could call the club a spa, get a facial and still have lunch. So, like, thanks Wicked Club. Sign me up.

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