So last night, my roommate and her boyfriend pulled me out to one of our favorite watering holes for some live music. Apparently, her favorite band was performing- David Wax Museum, I heartily recommend them. They play something that sounds acoustic-y with Mexican influence, and some folk/bluegrass.
At some point, my roommate starts getting hit on by somebody who is clearly not getting the hint that he ought to back off so I stuck myself in between them. wrong decision. This guy didn't even blink at the switch up and I quickly realized my error (with horror). But, I was saved. A guy from across the room has been watching my roommate and her friend dance with her boyfriend, and introduces himself as a transplant from Texas who is studying economics, and is desperately missing the dance halls, and would we mind terribly granting him the favor of a dance or two when the second set started?
I used to love dancing (with the exception of crappy club dancing, I don't consider that dancing, I consider it- well... let's leave that alone), not that I did much formally, but I went out and tried to learn salsa a few times in college (we'll discount the customary pre-teen ballet and tap dancing) and spent an inordinate amount of time when I was tiny standing on my mom's feet while she two stepped around the kitchen (and loved it). Anyway, haven't been dancing much in years. I stopped in college when my partner took a few toe nails off because he thought dancing was for sissies- made another attempt a couple of years ago with my subsequent boyfriend and it rapidly turned into one of the worst ideas ever, second only to the prior attempt with the prior partner.
Given my prior experiences, I was graceful and tried my damnedest to deflect to my roommate and her friend. He seemed to take it. I mean there was nothing conspicuously wrong with the guy, I was just already being rudely pawed by some neanderthal who insisted "I'll look cuter if you let me buy you a beer", I like my toenails where they are, and don't like dancing with strangers (even though, obviously, I've had such great luck with people I actually know.)... As you can tell, I was a veritable cornucopia of good will. But he was real polite, and when the freak show next to me started getting physical and I was running out of ideas (that didn't involve me breaking a few knuckles) to dissuade him, he seemed to take the cue and came over and offered a hand (which I practically lunged at, taking it as the rope of salvation that nobody can appreciate quite like a stupid girl cornered in a bar like the fox in a fox hunt). But so I didn't look desperate said "Oh, I guess I can manage just one."
This is no exaggeration when I say that I had the dance of my life and walked out of the bar feeling like a woman (and a badass). Does that even make any sense? because it surely doesn't to me. Compounded by the fact that this gentleman was my current acting savior, he was a phenomenal dancer. There was some two stepping, some jitter bug, and after we caught our breaths and downed a lot of water (bowing to the fact that we were obviously getting old and out of shape from the inactivity of graduate school) he taught me the cotton eyed joe and, bless his heart, to waltz. He said I followed really well, picked up the movements quickly, and had a great sense of rhythm. His friend said he saw the guy dance frequently, but scarcely with women who could keep up (insert unabashed self boasting here). We both love dancing, he doesn't sketch me out, and we're both quite clearly not interested in dating, so we're keeping in touch on the offhand chance that we both have free time.
Anyway, overall it was spectacular- My roommate's boyfriend at some point bought a band t-shirt, whipped off the one that he was wearing, slung it over his head, and pulled on the paraphernalia only to discover that it was a women's medium. That was a highlight along with my dancing excursion.
