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I’m Not Going to Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You

03/05/2011

Thursday night I decided to tag along with a friend to a small, free Das Racist show up at a local university. It was mostly her friends, I didn’t know anyone aside from the couple of people I had met here or there over the years. It was refreshing to be in a room with live music and no one I knew. Though, there were times someone would pass and I would catch a glimpse of them, thinking they were x,y,or z…there are bizarro pals everywhere, it seems, when you’re out of your element.  Later in the night, the friend I went with had to run upstairs to grab our coats. I was left to my own devices, which I was totally fine with. The show was good, and after an obligatory Facebook post about where I was, I received a text from an interested friend, which I was answering when a young man approached me.

He was tall, good looking and a little drunk. He made a comment about my not having fun, since I was texting and all. I assured him I was having a great time. He asked why I wasn’t drinking.

“I’m done drinking. I have work early”

“Oh, come on”, he said.  “I have class at 11 and I’m drinking. When do you have to be at work?”

“A quarter to nine.”

His face fell, the look that could only exist on the face of a college student who has no cares in the world and is reminded that in a couple of short years, he will have many.

“I’m sorry”, he said. “So are you going to dance with me, or what?”

He is bold, now. A tall white boy with one too many cheap beers in him. He does not know who he is dealing with. I agree to dance with him, and go on to show off my ‘moves’. Now, I really wish there is video evidence, because this is difficult to describe, but the moves I have become famous for mostly resemble a slightly retarded church biddy. There is a lot of stomping, shaking and waving. Occasionally the elbows come out, at which time I like to yell “Elbows, elbows! What?! What?!” I have become particularly known for my elbows within my circle. This, however, was very much not my circle.

The boy took one look at me and informed me that that was not dancing with him. He grabbed my arm and showed me what dancing with him was, which I suppose was me straddling his leg while he moved awkwardly in a circle. On our third or so rotation, I saw that my friend had returned from upstairs, and I started laughing hysterically. Boy assured me that nobody was watching us and pulled me closer. I pulled away, and busted out one more of my classic moves. Walking in place, moving my left forearm up and down as if to say ” turn up the bass!”  He told me I was being awkward.

So went the first experiment in trying out new places and trying to meet new people. I realize I have my work cut out for me. Next Week: Drunken Spelling Bee tournament with a wingman.

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