Toupee Town

Age might be nothin’ but a number, but after a visit to Touché, well … we found out that it’s more than that. So much more.

We’d heard that Touché attracts a more mature crowd — hence its nickname, Toupee. That factoid in and of itself was enough to draw us out to 103rd and Metcalf. And we were sold when we got an e-mail from a reader who summed up Touché as having a “senior-hustler-preserved-in-amber vibe.” So, off we went to south OP with Research Assistants Erik, John and Cece on a Friday night.

Located behind Buffalo Wild Wings in the labyrinth that is the Metcalf 103 Shops, Toupee is indeed a fantabulous good time, with great people-watching. The place puts out a faint skeezy vibe like a skank in heat. Even though we got there close to midnight, the place was still packed with revelers whose median age hovered near 50 — or, from salt-and-pepper to Hair Club for Men.

Touché’s crowd was diverse both racially and sartorially. We spotted guys in nice jackets and ties and guys in jeans. Of course, the boob top was prevalent, too, as befits any good meat-markety club. Surprisingly, however, we didn’t see a lot of toupees. Perhaps more merkins (a South of the Border toupee) were present, but that’s one topic we’re psychologically not prepared to delve into just yet.

Even more impressive than the people-watching was the roomy interior. The place felt like a south-JoCo living room furnished by The Jones Store. Comfortable couches lined the walls, and beaded-fringe lamps gave off a soft glow. Old family photos and a giant Frank Sinatra picture hung on the brown, textured walls. The lighting was dim — all the better for the sugar daddies on the prowl — and a large dance floor dominated the other half of the room. The music ranged from disco to the Pussycat Dolls’ unbearable “Don’t Cha.” The volume wasn’t so blaring that we couldn’t chat, but it prevented our usual shameless eavesdropping.

“It’s a high-class Regal Beagle,” said RA Erik. After we settled on the plush sofas, our attentive server, Christine, brought us drinks, which were not cheap. Our chocolate martini set us back $9, and a Jack and Coke cost $5.75. At least we got our money’s worth — the drinks were tasty and strong.

As we drank, we scoped out the clientele. A 60ish guy in a camel-colored blazer and a grayish toupee sat near us, accompanied by a Leona Helmsley look-alike with an aggressively downturned mouth. When Camel Blazer got up to use the facilities, Leona dumped some of his wine into her glass. Classy!

Another interesting character sat down near us. Terry was a 35-year-old, good-lookin’ black guy with a goatee and a slightly receding hairline. He said he lives in South Carolina but grew up here and was visiting his parents for the weekend. Terry told us that he likes Touché because he’s attracted to older women. “They’re more mature and can hold logical conversations,” he explained. “They’re already set in their ways.” And, oh yeah, there’s this added bonus: They’re not looking for a relationship. “They just got out of a 25-, 30-year marriage, and they’re looking for sex. That’s where I come in.” Come and knock on our door, indeed, baby!

He also revealed that when he was 33, he dated a 58-year-old — the oldest he’s gone.

“Do you know why we stopped dating?” he asked.

Uh, no.

“She died.”

He brushed away our condolences and told us that cancer did her in. Which, he said, is why he would like to settle down with someone near his age. But not until he’s 38 — “When I have all the dog out of me,” he said.


We could tell that he was far from retiring because he asked the Night Ranger out. “We will make beautiful kids,” he said. “Let me see your hands.” He pretended to read one palm, fortune-teller style. “We’ll have a little girl. Her name will be Mariah.” Before the NR could recover from her bafflement at that random pronouncement, Terry told us how we could tell the length of a guy’s penis by measuring the distance from his extended index finger to the tip of his outstretched thumb. He said shoe size was a myth. One of his friends wears a size 14 but has a little dick, he said. Turns out he and Size 14 were in a threesome. He told us the raunchy details (mostly involving Terry’s fear of friendly splashback), then finished his story by bragging that even though he wears a size 9 shoe, he was bigger than his friend.

Well. After that marathon overshare session, we were ready to move on. So was Terry, who sidled over to RA Cece and started flirting. We walked around and got the eye — as well as the always successful “Hey, baby” — from a bunch of older guys. We also spotted a middle-aged couple making out; a guy with shoulder-length brown hair was mashing a frizzy-haired blonde in a corner. We hovered until they came up for air, then asked if we could interview them. The guy declined, a bemused look on his face from the lip lock as well as the randomness of the request. “Continue making out, then,” commanded the Night Ranger.

We soon met a couple of guys who were the antithesis of Terry. One was Crazy Eddie, an almost-40-year-old with a baby face and white-blondish spiky hair. This self-proclaimed “old-fashioned country boy” said he lives in Fort Scott and commutes to Johnson County Community College for pre-paramedic classes. He told us about obscene propositions he’d heard from women old enough to be his grandma, including offers for dirty dancing and kinky sex. In one horrific episode, a woman suggested that his endurance must be healthy because he was young enough to be her grandson. That’s certainly an Oedipus-wrecks situation worthy of some eye-gouging, we thinks. Needless to say, he declined those solicitations.

So did 47-year-old Orn, a guy we encountered sitting by the side bar. With his cool Icelandic name and his friendly face, he, too, has gotten his share of offers. “Last week, a woman asked me to take her home. I said no, then she asked if she could take me to a motel,” he said. Apparently, that wasn’t the first time he had been asked to do such deeds.

By that point, we wanted to talk to some of the more aggressive ladies, but it was near last call, and many had already left. Instead, we chatted with 50-year-old Jan, a nice woman from western Kansas who was showing quite a bit of breastage. She got divorced five years ago. She told us that Tuesday — singles night — was also a good time to check out Toupee. We asked her if she’d heard any raunchy pickup lines. She said she was approached by a guy who smarmily stated, “You know why women come here.”

“The same reason men come here,” she shot back. Ooh, touché! Thrust and parry, Ms. Jan!


On that note, we were ready to go. We rejoined our RAs, who had become engrossed in conversation with Terry before he was joined by his girlfriend-not-girlfriend, a beautiful 50-year-old who easily looked a decade younger. The two canoodled on a sofa, then disappeared into the bathrooms for a bit.

“Well, that was a trip,” RA John said. Yeah, the phrase number cruncher suddenly has a whole new meaning for us. But like the merkin, that’s something we’ll analyze some other time.

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