3
Sep
A few weeks ago, a good friend and I took a trip to the dance clubs we used to frequent before getting meat-headded out of them. It was fun… nostalgic but with plenty reminders that avoiding these places for another few years is probably the best course of action. And although I felt immediately at home in these familiar places, I also found myself in some very UNfamiliar scenarios. Luckily, my insanity was quick to restore order and assure that I went home alone.
Our first stop was the 700 Club. We found ourselves quickly on the dance floor and close to a group of girls, one of whom I thought was kinda cute. She was dancing a lot and she smiled and laughed almost the entire time. I found myself trying to stay close-ish to her group, just in case she decided to dance her way over and allow me the opportunity to utterly shun her.
NO. That wasn’t going to happen this time. I was totally ready for her. We were going to dance awkwardly together and I’d pray that she didn’t catch on that I was PETRIFIED of her. This was going to work, seriously. I AM READY! We’re going seize this moment, this once-in-a-lifetime kind of moment, and we will use it as the foundation for our lifelong love. Just her, me, and the “Humpty Dance.”
And then… well, the opportunity never came and Sean was ready to leave. But he had to use the rest room first. And so we made our way downstairs and I waited for him when smiley girl found her way to where I was standing alone. She asked me why I had stopped dancing and I explained that we were on our way out. She told me that she enjoyed watching us dance… that we were “really good.” I was probably blushing but I said something and got her to laugh. We talked some more and we laughed a lot and she touched my arm. I was being hit on for the FIRST TIME EVER I THINK. And it was going well!
Except for the fact that I decided to immediately tell her that I was moving across the country in a few days and that I was basically leaving Philly because I hate it and that there’s basically no point in us continuing this conversation and then I basically forgot her name and then we left to go to another club and I basically didn’t invite her along or get her number or her email address or GODDAMNIT EVEN REMEMBER HER NAME even though she was giggly and funny and smart and cute and liking me.
Club number 2: Silk City. It was packed and we were dancing immediately. I was still hating myself. “Sexy Back” came on. And then my hit-on-by-girl-count doubled.
A couple of measures into the song, I had hands on my waist and a girl aggressively making her way to face me. And then she asked me this:
“Are YOU bringing sexy back?”
I didn’t know what to say. To be fair, my loss for words was not only out of an inexperience in the fine art of graciously accepting romantic attention. But also this was the dumbest thing a human has ever asked me.
But I’m a new person now. I’m dropping everything and moving to California. I’m determined to stop being shy. I’m going to say things I mean to say and be charming and funny. I’m going to dance with girls and not spit gum on them. I’m going to avoid responding to “are YOU bringing sexy back” by saying:
“HUHUH, I NEVER HAD IT TO BEGIN WITH!”
Unfortunately, I’m going to have to get a late start on that last one, because that’s exactly what I said to her. 3 minutes of awkward, arms-length dancing followed. We closed with a handshake.
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big fan of the post-dance handshake.