Saturday Curry with the Boys Club

As Groucho Marx said upon resigning from the Friar's Club (whatever the hell that is), "I don't want to belong to any club that will accept me as a member."

I've been great at avoiding any kind of membership since I was in Brownies (the foot soldiers of the Girl Scouts of the United States of America) because our troop leader once piled us into her van, drove to her trailer and told us to make play dough ornaments in her oven so she could chain smoke and watch TV with her boyfriend.

When our parents arrived at the church to pick us up, we were nowhere to be found, and my mom said I couldn't go back after that. I think she was actually very grateful to the lady when she finally did find me and learned I hadn't been sold. My mother is a strict non-joiner.

But some clubs are so exclusive that when you're invited to join, you carry that card for life.

We met Antonio (Ton or Tom for those who cannot pronounce the equally easy Ton) and his husband, Jamie (not Jaime, Jamie), during the time acquaintances were trying to introduce us to every Spaniard in the city.

Ton's the only Iberian who stuck because, turns out, not all españoles son compatibles.

Of the many benefits that come with Ton and Jamie's friendship, Saturday Curry with the Boys Club (SCBC) is my favorite, and I'm the only one who calls it that.

Every Saturday at noon, you can spot us at Taj Palace Indian buffet on 39th street. Jaime and I are usually the first to arrive because we've spent all morning talking about how excited we are about SCBC, warning each other not to eat because we've got SCBC and wondering who's going to be at SCBC.

I'm the only member without a penis, probably, and never once has it been an issue except for the time I asked them if the men's bathroom was just as terrible as the women's.

They all stared at me blankly until Jerry said, "Honestly, I wasn't even aware there was a women's restroom here."

The bathrooms are vital because, except for Lee whose plate is specially prepared in the kitchen before he arrives, we are eating bottomless curry. However, I can usually wait to use the one at Mud Pie, the vegan coffee shop we go to after lunch.

I don't typically order anything at the cafe. I'm just there for the company because I've had as many cups of complimentary chai tea and fried dough balls at Taj Palace as I can stand. The buffet's not expensive, but why leave anything untouched, you know?

Jaime, on the other hand, orders his usual: a large chai tea and donut. His total comes to more than the cost of his lunch.

Brian laughs at my deep sigh every time, and it's what saves our marriage.

I have learned so much from this precious, warm hug of a man group. They make me laugh, they bring me office supplies for school and most importantly, they are the reason why Jaime finally feels at home in Kansas City.

And for that, I will forever be grateful to them.

We've never taken a picture together, but this is EXACTLY what we'd look like in matching jackets.