January 23

There is a place in Anaheim Hills that people all over Orange County refer to as the MILF Capital of the World. It's a magical place that is visible from the 91 and it just happens to have a hotel in it's backyard. This is a Mecca where young men from all over the country flee to because of its legacy. MILFs everywhere come to this wondrous place to get a drink, a young man, and a room with a view. This is Foxfire: An American Chophouse.

What is a MILF, you ask? MILF is an acronym that stands for "Mother's I'd Like to F**k." I'm not positive, but I think the term originated from the 1999 film, American Pie. There really isn't any more to it than that. If a man finds a sexual attraction towards a woman with kids, she is a MILF. The term, however, is very easy to confuse with "cougar." A cougar is an older woman that frequents clubs in pursuit of a much younger sexual partner and doesn't necessarily have any children. Although Foxfire has earned the prestigious title of MILF Capital of the World, it doesn't necessarily mean that all of the women that frequent the joint are mothers. But, that's not what this post is about, so it doesn't even matter.

I had heard stories about guys going to Foxfire and getting picked up by MILFs that have rooms at the nearby hotel. I actually heard a story that a woman bought a guy that went to my school brand new tires for his truck just for staying the night with her. Naturally, I wanted to check this place out for myself and see what all the talk was about. One night, my very good friend Max and I went, and this is our story:

I don't remember too many details of the night, but I think it took place in January or February. From the outside, one might get the idea that the inside was a place of class and stature. It has a grand entrance that's illuminated by rope lights along the restaurant's every edge. Three-foot flames reach out of a chimney on the roof to lick the night's air during hours of operation. It really is a nice entryway, but inside it's actually a bit sleazy.

Upon entering, you might feel instantly transported to the 1970s. There is an old musky scent that lingers on the thick air and you almost expect to feel shag carpet under your feet. If I remember correctly, you enter the front door and find yourself standing in the bar area. I think there was a large square bar surrounded by high-top tables and bar stools. There were also a few billiards tables scattered around the bar. Deeper within the bowels of the restaurant is the actual dining room. It was back in this area that a band was playing on the night that I went. During the later hours of the evenings, the dining room closes and the restaurant turns into more of a social gathering. I remember the room being very dimly lit. If you continue past the dining room there is a backdoor that leads to a nice wooden deck that overlooks a few trees and other random shrubs, but we didn't spend much time out there seeing as how it was a colder part of the year.

Max and I had a few drinks and played some pool with some guys that Max was playing soccer with at the time. Nice guys, but I don't really remember too much about them. As we played, I kept my eye out for a cougar in the shadows about to pounce on me, but nothing came my way. There were a lot more middle-aged couples than I had expected. I was kind of hoping to walk into a room of scantily clad older women. I walked in prepared to have to fight women off me, but it wasn't like that at all. There were groups of women talking to each other, couples that were minding their own business, and then there was the four of us playing pool and trying to make sense of it all.

It wasn't until two in the morning that we found ourselves in the Foxfire parking lot that the fun really started. The lot was full of drunk older women not willing to call it a night and a lot of guys my age. The few couples made their way home as the rest of us stood wondering what to do next. All of the bars were closed, but someone somewhere made a suggestion. "Hey! Let's all go to Denny's!"

The next thing I knew, I was riding shotgun in Max's Honda Element following at least seven cars down the road to the nearby 24-hour establishment. We parked, met Max's soccer friends and followed the crowd into the restaurant. Upon seeing our giant group enter, the eighteen-year-old at the host stand just stood with a blank look on his face and blinked a few times in disbelief. I can't imagine what was going through his head because our group was so diverse that it had to look really unusual. Luckily, a man in his late thirties/early forties from our group took the reigns and told the host that there were sixteen of us and we all wanted to sit together. Keep in mind that I didn't know any of these people save for Max and his two friends.

Before long, I was sitting on one end of a long table occupied by the shaggy-haired guy, maybe two weasely looking dudes in their early thirties, and my group of four. The rest were drunk women in their forties and up. We ordered our food (I went with the Moons Over My Hammy) and got acquainted with one another.

The shaggy-haired ringleader of our group was great. In his drunken stupor, he went around the table, person by person, and asked each one of us what our name was, what we did for a living, and what we had just ordered. He reminded me of a mix between Patrick Swayze's Bodhi from Point Break and a surfer-esque Brett Michaels. Of course he spent more time interviewing the women, but as an observer, it was fantastic! I don't remember any of the answers, but there was definitely an astonishingly high number of women that had kids in beds at home. I think the oldest kid mentioned was seventeen. Seventeen! That was six years my minor!

Because I was still slightly buzzed, I couldn't stop giggling. The woman next to Max kept dozing off as her friends tried to keep her awake. It was hopeless, she insisted. The only thing that ever kept her awake was sex. There was the class I was looking for! As the interviews came full-circle, it was time for Bodhi to tell us what he did for a living. With a proud/intoxicated nod and slow look around the table, he informed us that he was a teacher. Oh, cool. What did he teach? Surfing lessons? No. Fourth-graders. What a guy!

I finished my Moons Over My Hammy and started to retrieve my wallet to pay my portion of the bill when Bodhi slowly stood up, spread his arms like Jesus Christ and announced what great people we all were. He exclaimed how much fun he had and how great it was to meet each and every one of us. As a token of his thanks, he wanted to pay the tab. The women swooned, the men applauded, and Bodhi hiccuped.

The air was cold and crisp as we left the eighteen-year-old to clean up after us. I shook Bodhi's hand and thanked him for the meal. As the neon lights from the Denny's sign got smaller and smaller in Max's rear view mirror, we exchanged looks and busted out laughing. We couldn't believe what had just happened. I wasn't offered any spectacular gifts in exchange for sexual favors, but I had experienced Foxfire. It was one of those nights where it was so amazing and unbelievable that I will never return for fear of tainting my image of the MILF Capital of the World.