The Foxfire Mystery Finally Solved

I went to Foxfire on Saturday night.

Now, as you may or may not know, this answered a long-standing question I've had.

And the answer, as it turns out, is "yes."

The question, as it has always been, was "Is Foxfire really an outrageous cougar bar?"

Rex, Grant, John and I went to Foxfire in Anaheim on Saturday night to find out, laughing and giving each other odd looks for most of the evening. I dressed like some Newport Beach asshole in black jeans, a white dress shirt, dark blazer and dress shoes. Rex wore a blazer, John wore a dress shirt and Grant did a button up shirt and sweater combo.

For years, I've heard the rumors about Foxfire, how it's like some alternate universe where cougars hang. Within in ten seconds of paying the cover charge, I realized that not only was that true, but that generally older men and women go there. We were the youngest people in the bar by 10 or 15 years. This was unnerving, as I'm not entirely sure I've been somewhere with that radical of an age difference. Also, the bar was packed, so it was even stranger. As we slipped through the crowd (who were either watching the busy dance floor or the house band led by Shakira in 20/30 years), I noticed that we were getting looks. We were picking up some sex-hungry eyes from the older ladies and getting the why-the-fuck-are-you-here look from the older gents.

We didn't really have a plan to seduce older women. It was more of a "hey, let's finally do this" kind of attitude. But, damn...it was too overwhelming for me. It was weird as hell, seeing people my parents age acting like 21-year-olds. And, at times, it felt like four naive sheep in a pasture of slow-moving wolves. At one point, Rex and Grant headed into the dance floor chaos while John and I posted up against the wall. Rex and Grant looped through the dancers and right back to us with both of them saying, "It was too weird in there."

So, the four of us spent most of the night smoking cigarettes and drinking whiskey on the back patio, which was only slightly more toned down. We people-watched and kind of didn't know what to do with ourselves except to converse like there wasn't awkward sexual anarchy going on around us. However, the initial plan of getting drunk to cope with the straight-up weirdness of the place was in full effect. By the time we decided to call it a hilarious and peculiar night, I was pleasantly sauced and sick to my stomach with cigarette smoke.

Heading out, in the parking lot, a car of young dudes pulled up and asked how it was inside. The four of us provided them with half-answers and shrugs, rather unsure of how to explain things in there. Once in the car, we started laughing and recapping the evening to each other, before heading home and going back to something more familiar: eating Del Taco and watching Grey's Anatomy.

Drunk and tired, I texted my mom, "Not coming home!"

She sent me a text back, reading, "So Cougar Town was a success?"

The next morning, I explained to my mother that I was just looking to crash on Grant's couch, as I figured I was too done for to get behind the wheel. Then, I paused and asked, "Wait, so you thought that I went home with some hot cougar?"

My mom replied, "Hey, I didn't know what you were doing and I wasn't really looking to find out."

Maybe next time, Mom. Maybe next time.