Sweetie

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.

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 those 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 some recent family events.  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.

“All right, I’ll see you next week!”

“All right!  Bye sweetie…”

Sweetie…??

Ugh.  I don’t like the sound of that.  It sounds like she just views me as some adorable boy – 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.

Tango

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?  😀

Clubbed

“Dude, we’re gonna get you laid tonight…”

It’s never a good thing when your friends say that, especially when you’re not sure what motivated them to say it in the first place. Maybe they suspected I was a virgin? I’d never talked about it… but I’d never been seen with a girl either. Perhaps they’ve simply drawn their own conclusions by now. (Worse yet, perhaps they’ve discovered my blog!) Whatever the case, they clearly thought I needed some action.

The destination, though? A new club that opened up nearby. Oh, hell no.

Now, I used to go clubbing all the time. I was out in the Hamptons every weekend in the summers. I once had a dance-off with Flavor Flav. I went clubbing for one reason only, and that was to dance my ass off all night long. But that came to an end by the time I was 23. I just couldn’t take that whole scene anymore. Been there, done that, didn’t want to do it anymore.

Nowadays in my old age the noise levels in those places are intolerable. I can’t hear anything anybody says to me and I can’t make myself heard unless I shout, and I lose my voice after ten minutes of shouting. That’s assuming that I even have anything to contribute to the conversation, which I usually don’t. I just end up standing there staring at everyone with my ears ringing and my head pounding and a feverish desire to be anywhere else. And I don’t drink, so there’s really nothing for me to do there but to develop a foul mood.

Nevertheless, I gracefully acquiesced. The whole gang was going, and it had been a long time since I’d seen everyone. It had been even longer since I’d really cut loose and boogied. Not to mention I’d acquired a whole new catalog of dance moves I was eager to show off. So… what the hell! I could certainly use a distraction from the craziness that’s been going on in my life.

I was tearing it up on the dance floor within minutes of my arrival.  If you get there around 9 or 9:30 you have plenty of room to move, but once 11PM rolls around it turns into a sardine can and everybody is consigned to dancing in place. So I took advantage of the opportunity and pulled out everything in my arsenal.

A short while later my friend Chris tapped me on the shoulder and told me I needed to tone it down. “There are a whole lot of girls watching you but you’re intimidating them with your dance moves. They’re not going to come near you if you keep doing splits and high kicks and all this other crazy shit.”

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I just shrugged. I was there to dance and have a good time and I didn’t care what anybody thought, and I told him so. He just shook his head and walked back over to the bar where the rest of the gang was watching me. I went back to doing my best James Brown impression, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to take his advice just to see what would happen.

Twenty minutes later there were three girls were dancing around me in a circle. This was the same trio I’d watched a dozen guys approach throughout the night and try to insert themselves into their circle, only for the girls to turn their backs and shut them out. It was hilarious watching guy after guy being rejected. But they must’ve taken a shine to me because they surrounded me and wiggled their asses at me. A cowboy hat appeared out of nowhere and landed on my head, and since the DJ was spinning a Luke Bryan song (!) I just went with it and busted out some country line dancing. My fans hastened to imitate me, and a couple of songs later the country music interlude ended and the cowboy hat mysteriously disappeared.

Then one of the three put her arms around my neck and started humping my leg. I put my hands on her hips and allowed her to keep rubbing her crotch against my thigh. This is interesting, I thought. But not nearly as interesting as when she started grinding her crotch against my own. I developed the biggest erection in the world, which I felt pretty self-conscious about.  Apparently she didn’t mind; she rubbed against me even harder. Then she disappeared without warning, leaving me confused and horny. Sigh. I just made my way back out to the floor and resumed doing my thing.

Shortly afterwards another girl started dancing with and grabassing me. But this one wanted to have a conversation as well:

“Wah wah WAH WAAAAH womp womp wah wah wah WAH!”

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At least that’s what it sounded like to me. By that point in the evening everybody sounded like the adults from Peanuts. I had no idea what she was saying, so I just nodded my head and said “yeah” a lot and that kept her going. I looked up and noticed my friends in the background making frantic scribbling motions and mouthing “get her number!” Ugh. No thanks. This chick was drunk as all get out and reeked of alcohol. Not impressive. In fact, she fell flat on her ass thirty seconds later. I took that opportunity to do a spin and moonwalk back across the floor. Somebody sprinkled dollar bills in my wake.

I finally took a break from dancing and joined my friends at the bar. More Charlie Brown voices. Suddenly there was a hard shove in my back and I nearly fell into a bar stool. I turned around and found some girl with her nostrils flaring. It took me a minute to decipher what she was shouting over the BOOM BOOM BOOM of the music, but I finally gathered that she thought I pushed her friend onto the floor. Before I could dispel her of this notion, she grabbed some random guy’s drink and threw it all over me.

The owner of the drink was completely unfazed. He just looked me up and down and said something to the effect of, “Oh, you’re that faggot that was dancing out there before…” before walking away.

i decided to call it a night after that.

It don’t mean a thing…

‘Twas time for swing dancing!  It’s been a while since I’d gone, and a while since I’d been out of the house, so I killed two birds with one stone tonight.  This time I arrived early and derived the benefits of the half-hour lesson that starts the evening (I missed it last time).  I learned some new steps and brushed up on the old ones.  I wasn’t worried about losing anything during my long absence; I spend most nights sliding around my house in my socks and underwear like Tom Cruise in Risky Business.  You know – practice.

Swing dancing is great  I finally get to dance with girls, and they actually seem to enjoy dancing with me!  Awesome.  Not only that, but the people there are all so friendly and outgoing and approachable.  It’s almost unnerving.  I’m not used to that.  Maybe I’ve unwittingly stumbled across a cult…  But what’s nice about swing dancing is that you can ask pretty much anyone there to dance and nobody turns you down.  You get a turn with everybody in the room.

Once again were a few young lovelies in attendance, some I recognized from last time and some new faces as well.  I took a few spins around the dance floor with each of them, which was great.  I was really getting into the “swing” of things.  They also play an occasional non-swing dance tune throughout the night, which mixes things up nicely.  I was in the middle of dancing with this real pretty girl when a waltz came on.  Ho, boy!  I may not know how to really swing yet, but I sure as hell know how to waltz.  However, the girl I was with didn’t.

“It’s easy,” I told her, putting one arm around her and holding up her other arm.  “Just follow my lead…” And away we went!  In fact, all the couples formed up into one ring encircling the entire dance floor.  It was awesome.  Probably the closest I’ll get to being in a Viennese Ball.  But what I wouldn’t give to find someone I could do this with all the time.

The girl in my arms sighed contentedly at the end of the dance.  “You’ll have to show me how to waltz sometime,” she said.  “I just wish my boyfriend could dance like that…”

Boyfriend.  Of course.

But whatever.  Tonight was easily the most fun I’ve had in some time.

Swingers

The long wait was finally over.  I’d wanted to try this for eons.  It wasn’t until tonight that I finally took the plunge and experienced it for the first time.

I approached the venue with trepidation, worried about the possibility of spending an evening cooped up with a crowd more akin to Bingo Night.  But alas!  Upon my entrance I immediately noticed a number of lovely young ladies.  I eyed them hungrily from opposite the room.  I was a lion on the hunt, a tiger lying in wait, a tomcat on the prowl.

Meow.

They held this shindig every week, devoting the first thirty minutes to acquainting everyone with their limbs and different positions to try. I paired up with one of the older, more seasoned ladies.  She grinned at me.

“So.  Did your friends drag you here or what?”  No.  I assured her I came of my own volition.  She nodded, apparently satisfied.  She took hold of me and told me where to place my feet.  I obeyed, not willing to quarrel with a more experienced woman.

Before long we settled into a routine and found each other’s rhythm.

“You’re really good at this!” she gasped at one point, clearly impressed with my abilities.

“What can I say?” I sighed, adopting my best aw-shucks persona.  “I guess I’m a fast learner.”

“Well, keep it up!  The better you are at this, the more girls will like you.”  I barely stopped myself from rolling my eyes.  I had been doing this by myself ever since I was a teenager, but I’d never seen firsthand proof that girls liked it too.  I supposed it was true.

After a short while the organizers called out for everyone to stop.  It was time for the real party to begin!  They dimmed the lights, put on some music and served drinks to help us get in the mood.  We were encouraged to switch partners constantly – regardless of whether we were finished – with the ultimate goal of taking turns with everybody in the room.

This is it, I told myself.  Time for my big debut.  Don’t be nervous…

I spent the first part of the night with a few more older women until I finally relaxed enough to take a turn with some of the girls around my age.  The first girl was okay looking, but she exhaled a scent like moldy cheese.  Ugh.  I didn’t last long with her; I couldn’t take her heavy breathing in my face any more.  The second one was really pretty, but she was there with someone and I felt really self-conscious with him watching.

Then I saw the next girl and my eyes nearly fell out of my head.  Wowshe’s really fit.  What a body!  I took a deep breath, put an arm around her and pulled her into me, and then we started to move.  Oh my God, this feels so good!  This is what I’ve been missing out on?  Why didn’t I try this sooner!?

I wasn’t expecting much conversation, but she wanted to talk.  I did the best I could, as I was trying to stay focused and concentrated on what I was doing.

“Is this your first time?” she asked.  Ha.  There was obviously no fooling her.

“Yeah… definitely my first time,” I said.  No worries, though.  She was very supportive and encouraging, and before I knew it I had found my mojo and we were really going at it.  It was even better than before!  I was positively bursting with excitement.  I heard singing in my head:  “Heaven… I’m in heaven… and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak… and I seem to find the happiness I seek…”

Then she went and burst my bubble.  “I usually come here with my boyfriend but he couldn’t make it this week…”  Ugh.  Way to spoil the moment.  But I got over it.  There were other ladies during the night, but none were as fine as she.  No matter.  I’m definitely going back there again.  This is just the kind of thing I’ve been looking for.

I really like swing dancing.