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.