I went on Facebook earlier today because I wanted to send New Girl a message.  However, when I clicked on her profile I noticed something really odd:

She had unfriended me.  Dafuq…?  I gaped at my computer screen, racking my brain for any possible reason why.  Nothing came to mind.  She was all smiles and hugs when we parted ways, and expressed a clear interest in getting together again.   So I sent her the message as originally planned, without mentioning my peculiar discovery:

“Hey!  I had fun on Sunday and I can’t wait to get together again. In the meantime I’ve come up with a couple of ideas I wanted to float past you… like doing [this] at the beginning of the dance instead, and when we get to [this part of the music] we can do [such and such].  What do you think?  You wanna give those a try?”

And I just left it at that.  Her reply came through a few minutes later:

“No.   I’ll do it by myself.”

All right, she definitely had a bug up her ass about something.  What, though?

“Um… okay?  Is something wrong?”

Apparently.  Because her next move was to block me on Facebook entirely.  My subsequent phone call went unanswered and she didn’t return my voicemail.  So it looks like whatever the problem was will forever remain a mystery.  This only reinforces this niggling feeling that I’m unwittingly saying or doing something to turn girls off and to provoke these kinds of reactions.  Except I don’t know what I possibly could have done this time.

Ann St. Vincent recently suggested I ask some of the girls I went on dates with “why didn’t things work out?”  Their answers might be difficult to hear, but I might learn something valuable.  Well…I was saving this for one of my next posts, but I’ve been doing just that.  Certainly can’t hurt at this point.  But so far I haven’t learned anything apart from “you just weren’t my type” or “I just didn’t feel any connection” or “we just have different personalities” and similar answers.  Unfortunately, the girls whom I thought would actually have some important feedback were precisely the ones that didn’t respond to my inquiry.


So that’s that, I guess.


Today was the big day.  I met with New Girl this afternoon to work on choreographing a dance together.   We texted throughout the week to arrange things.  She works at a dance studio, and she said she’d get the keys from the owner so we could use it for an hour or two this Sunday when nobody is there.  Good deal.

It was a bit of a drive from where I lived, but I didn’t mind.  This was something I’d dreamed of for the longest time – finding a girl to dance with.  I still wasn’t 100 percent sure whether her intentions were strictly dance-related or a deeper interest in me.  All indications seemed to point to the latter, though.

So there I was, driving down the street this afternoon, scouring the storefronts for her dance studio.  I belatedly noticed it as I drove past it.  Whoops.  I turned around and came back and parked on the opposite side.  That’s when I noticed she was parked out front, taking something out of the backseat of her car.  The bottom dropped out of my stomach and my heart started pounding.  “Oh God, please don’t let that be what I think it is…” I silently prayed.

It was.

She had a baby with her.

What. The. Fuck.

Sigh.  I knew this was too good to be true.  I knew there had to be a catch.

In case any of you have missed it or are new to my blog, I… strongly dislike children.  I give them a wide berth whenever possible.  Every day I wake up and give thanks that – out of a family of six kids – I only have one niece and nephew, one of whom is already 18.

I slumped all the way down in my seat and watched as she disappeared inside with the baby.  All manner of crazy thoughts ran through my head, the first of which was to put the key back in the ignition and floor the gas pedal and immediately put as much distance between me and this place as possible.  Could I do that?  Nah, I couldn’t do that.  Besides, I’d already come all this way.  Might as well do what I came here to do.   How that was going to happen with a baby in the picture remained to be seen.

I grabbed my backpack and crossed the street with a heavy step.  I went through the doorway and there was Baby sitting in the corner as New Girl arranged a temporary barricade around him. I swallowed.

“Oh, good, you’re here!  Would you mind watching him for a second while I run out and get his playpen?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure!” I said.  She dashed back to her car, and I was stricken with abject terror as I looked at the baby.  He sat on the floor, staring back at me.  Please don’t poop or cry or move or do anything… I silently pleaded.  Thankfully she was back within 30 seconds with the playpen and had it set up in a jiffy.

“I didn’t know you had a kid,” I said nonchalantly.

“Yeah, I couldn’t find anyone to watch him this afternoon, so I had to bring him along.  I hope you don’t mind,” she said.

“Not at all,” I said as convincingly as possible.  Mentally I was screaming.

“He’s  a year old.  His name’s Liam.”

“Liam… a good Irish name.  I approve,” I chuckled.  “He’s cute,” I added helpfully.  That was no lie.

“Thanks!” she beamed at me.

“So… uh, where do you want to do this?” I inquired.

“Oh we can go into the practice room right next door.  He’ll be fine out here.”  We went into the other studio and sat down to change our shoes.  We hadn’t discussed it yet, so I figured now was a good time to bring it up:

“So what did you want to do?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” she laughed.  I rolled my eyes as she bent down to tie her shoelaces.  Really?

“Well, this was your idea – I thought you had something in mind already that you wanted to work on.”

“Haha, nope.  But let’s just see what we can come up with!” she said brightly.  Ever prepared, I pulled out my CD book (yes, some people still have CDs in 2015) and we thumbed through my music collection looking for something good.  Eventually we settled on a song and after an hour we had the start of a new dance.  Very cool.  And baby Liam didn’t make a peep the entire time.  I was immensely thankful that I was saved from having to interact with him in any way.  Finally we started packing things up and I helped her carry all her baby shit out to the car.

“I noticed a cafe down the street… do you want to do lunch?” I asked despite myself.

“I’m sorry, I can’t… I really should get this little guy home,” she said.  I mentally breathed a sigh of relief.  I had already kicked myself for asking.  Not sure why I did –  I guess I just wanted to keep up appearances and not have her think I was child-hater.  “But this was a lot of fun, we definitely need to keep going with this,” she added.

“Definitely,” I agreed.  “You want to get together again next Sunday?”

“Next Sunday is no good for me, but the Sunday after that I’m free!”

“Then let’s do that Sunday then!”  She agreed, and we hugged and went our separate ways.  I might consider a purely sex-based relationship with her, on the slim chance that she’s interested in something like that.  But there was no way I was interested in anything serious with this chick, not with a kid in the picture.  Kids will never be in my future.  Not ever.

Why am I seeing her again, then?  Like I said, I’ve always wanted to find a girl to dance with.  So there’s that, if nothing else.  It’s nice to meet someone with a common interest like that.  And who knows where this could lead?  Maybe I’ll end up hooking up with one of her cute, single dancer friends.  Not to mention that she has three younger, hotter, childless sisters (I looked them all up on Facebook).

But… this looks like yet another dead end.


It’s been a month since my birthday.  I’m eleven months from becoming a 31yo virgin.  But more excitingly I’ve just marked  my two-year blog anniversary!  And here I am – 42,500 blog views and 275 followers later.  Sadly many of my original readers and bloggers I’ve followed have found significant others and moved on with their lives and left WordPress behind. In any case I want to extend a hearty thanks to all those who have read and commented, and who continue to do so.  Your input is always valued, even if I like to argue with it at times.

Happy blogging!


After four anxious weeks, Tuesday’s dance lessons have finally resumed.  I’ve done my best to keep my hopes down.  After class was over I deliberately lingered until the other girls had left.  Teacher was sitting in her office riffling through stuff when I appeared in the doorway.  First I asked her about the extra Friday night classes she had proposed last month, and yes she’s still going to hold those once she figures out what time is best.  Then I asked her how her holidays were.  Her parents are going through a divorce and she’s mediating.  My parents are separated and last night my dad started giving me shit because I’m not talking to my siblings and mediating on his behalf.  Well, maybe I could do that if he wasn’t fucking crazy.  When I saw him he was yelling and screaming and foaming at the mouth.  Literally foaming at the mouth.  That was the first time I ever saw that.  (And I thought my mother was exaggerating…)

But I digress.   In any case, Teacher and I have some common ground there.  What I have to deal with isn’t so bad, though.  I’m actually a hit at parties now.  People clamor for Dad stories, and I just stand in a corner entertaining folks with my props and gesticulations.  Teacher was slumped over with laughter at that  bit.  I joked that I picked a good time to start drinking, especially after last night’s visit to Dad.  At the mention of drinking, Teacher lit up.

“Oh my god, that was so much fun last time.  We definitely need to do that again!” she said.

“Yeah, we definitely should!” I agreed.  “What you would suggest for my second beer?”  She mentioned a couple of local bars we could go to, one that has trivia night and another that has free pizza.  “Let’s do it!” I said excitedly.  “How about next week after class?”   She said she’d send an email and let the others know.  So she wants to make it another group outing.  Okay.  Not a big deal.  Our last outing was definitely the most fun I’d had in a while, and if it unexpectedly turns into a regular thing, that’s cool.

I left her rolling with one last story (about the time my cousin thought my dad was trying to poison him… good stuff, look for a post about that in the future) and then I decided to call it a night and bid her adieu.

“All right, I’ll see you next week!”

“All right!  Bye sweetie…”


Eh… I’m not really sure how I should feel about that.  But it sounds like she just views me as some adorable boy (which I am) – the kind you kiss on the cheek and whose hair you ruffle and whom you call “sweetie” – and not someone she wants to dirty the sheets with.  I relayed this to a couple of friends and they confirmed my belief.  And if I needed any further confirmation, Teacher just uploaded a picture on Facebook.  A picture of the bartenders from the bar we all went to last time.  So she’s there tonight, after we were just talking about going out for drinks.

I guess she’s not interested then. Otherwise wouldn’t she have said, “actually I’m going out for a drink tonight – why don’t you come?”   Then again, as I’m typing this I’m realizing I could have suggested the same.  But for some reason my instincts told me to suggest going out next week, so I went with that.

Sigh.  Well… I can’t say I wasn’t expecting that things might unfold this way.  But even though this looks like another dead end, I feel like I gotta at least try before I give up entirely.  I have yet to turn the charm or flirtatiousness on full blast – both of which can be quite deadly if the right girl crosses my path.  And we’re still hanging out next week.  She’ll get to know me a little better outside of class (which, ironically, was my original strategy for Dancer Chick).

On a brighter note, I’m meeting with New Girl this Sunday.  I’m already preparing myself for yet another letdown.  These ups and downs are killing me.  I get my hopes up over and over and over again and I’m let down each time.  I’m not sure why this keeps happening.  At this point I can only hope that things will simply turn out differently for a change.  We shall find out soon enough!


 Oh dear.  I just got a message from my niece.  Apparently she was checking out her old dance school’s Instagram page, and  lo and behold there’s the picture from last month’s aforementioned bar outing.  So my niece was like, “wtf – are you in a bar with my old dance teacher?!?”

Ah, shit.   This a pickle, George, this is a pickle!

I’ve omitted a certain fact, which is that I’m taking these dance lessons in secret.  I want to surprise everyone someday with my newly acquired skills, and when they all go, “Wow, where did you learn all that?” I can finally tell them.  Unless my cover is blown in the meantime.  I was waiting for this exact sort of thing to happen.  So I just messaged my niece and told her, “lol yeah we’re friends and we were hanging out that night.”

She’ll buy that.



Well.  This is interesting.  While I’ve been waiting for Tuesday classes to resume so that I can finally see Teacher again, I’ve had my Wednesday night classes with my other dance group to distract me. And another distraction arrived this past Wednesday night.

I’ve become the de facto dance instructor in this other group. The original instructor had nothing left to show me, so I started watching YouTube videos and going to workshops to learn more.  At this point I’m the one introducing new steps and routines, and I’ve already choreographed a few numbers for the group. Very good practice for when I’ll have my own group someday.

Anyway, a prospective student came down last week, a girl who’d seen our most recent performance and inquired about joining.  She was a tall, thin blonde in her mid- to late-twenties.  I showed her some of the beginning steps, and then she watched as we went through some of the more advanced stuff.  At the end of the night we walked outside together.  She inquired about my dance background, and I did the same.  She professed interest in coming back, but I just smiled wryly as I waved her good night.  Lots of people came down over the years, saying they’d be back, but most we never saw again.

So imagine my surprise when she found me on Facebook and sent me a message earlier tonight.  She said Wednesdays are no good for her after all, but she was impressed with my abilities, and further impressed that I’d only been dancing for a few years.  She wanted to know whether I’d be interested in getting together sometime to show her what I know and maybe choreograph a dance.  You know, just the two of us.  She actually teaches dance herself, and volunteered the use of the studio she works at.  She says we can go there on Sundays when nobody else is there.  “Oh, and here’s my number:  XXX-XXX-XXXX.”

Dancer Chick, Teacher, and now this new girl… still working on a nickname for her.  I’ve always heard that girls like a guy who can dance, but that’s never redounded to my benefit.  Now it looks like it may finally be paying off.  Good deal!

Speaking of Teacher, I’m still playing it cool.  When I really like someone I have a tendency to blurt and do stupid shit, but I’ve kept myself in check so far.  I haven’t even liked or commented on a single thing on her Facebook.  However, that hasn’t stopped me from combing for other hints of interest.  I’ve noticed that she posted the picture of the four of us at the bar, and “liked” her own photo.  I’ve been looking through the rest and have yet to find any other instances of her liking her own photos.  Good sign…?

Several of you said she seems interested based on her actions, but I’m still doubtful.  Part of me feels like if she were really interested, then there wouldn’t be any question.  Like with New Girl (there, I have a nickname).  THAT’S how you know a girl is interested in you.  I almost think that asking if a girl is interested is like asking a girl if she had an orgasm; if you have to ask, then the answer is no.  But I could be wrong.  We’ll see.  In any case I’m kinda glad it’s been almost a month since I last saw Teacher.  The more time that passes, the less I obsess over her.

What do you think, though?  Is New Girl interested in me?  😀