Suspenders/III

"Here's the deal," Martin explained. "I answered dis ad and I need you to complete the three men.  Just say yes, and in a couple a days I'll fill you in on da details."
Martin went on to explain that there was another guy interested and that the woman he spoke to was anxious to pull the ad and get on with the dinner.
I said yes.
Then I forgot about it until a call the following week.
Martin called and explained the date was on for the following Saturday night.  Someone would call me, ask me a few questions and then, if I passed muster, I'd be given an address and a time.  I'd also be given an item to bring, something like a loaf of bread or a bottle of wine.
I could bring both, I thought.  Even flowers?  But I soon realized that there might be rules.  I further realized that every time I thought about this upcoming evening a new question entered my mind.
I knew the entire idea was contrived to begin with, but in the following days, I realized the levels of complexity I could let myself be tangled up in.  How would anything I brought be taken, judged, or interpreted?  What about my looks?  My clothing?  My vocation?  I didn't see any easy outs.  This could be the longest evening of my life or the most intriguing.  Suspense.  Oh, and suspenders.  I decided to wear my new suspenders.
The 1980s produced some fashion alternatives that would be best left buried in time.  Maybe it was a prolonged reaction to the end of the 60s when nobody cared and jeans and leather were favored? Maybe it was the result of too many banned substances?  Colors reigned on jungle pants, loose-fitting light fabrics in pastels came into favor, and acid-wash Levis replaced blue denim.  I would have none of that and opted to wear a new pair of pants I'd purchased because they had buttons on which to attach suspenders.  I figured that this retro look might reflect my interest in history, traditional American music and a bit of a Western aesthetic.
The Friday before the appointed Saturday night I received a call from a woman called Bonnie.  She was pleasant and after a brief conversation about how intriguing the evening might be and how it certainly was a good idea to meet 6 people at a time, I was assigned a bottle of white wine.  I got directions to a home in the Oakland hills, verified the time, and was allowed to ask a few questions.
"What are the names of the other two women, and are they your friends?
Marsha and Susan would be there and yes, they were longtime friends.
After wasting time thinking about what wine to bring, and what that might reveal, I decided to look on a map to see exactly where this home in the hills might be.  Why didn't I ask about the venue?  Whose home was this?
I found the house on a broad sweeping street of homes with a commanding Bay Area view.  I parked and waited for Marvin to arrive.  We'd planned to enter together for some reason.
What followed is one of the more unusual evenings I've experienced.  Unusual because minds raced but very few words of substance were exchanged.  When Pete, the third man arrived 15 minutes late, introductions ensued.  We all remarked on the beauty of the home and the stunning photos elegantly framed throughout.
Pete was a photographer, a sports photographer, so he was immediately drawn to the photos of beautiful beaches, wildlife, and remote mountain ranges.  In asking about their details, we found out that this was the home of the photographer and not one of the 3 women hosting the dinner.  Turns out that the couple who lived in this magnificent home was currently in Austrailia on another of their adventures.  Bonnie was house-sitting.