Monday, July 12, 2010

Who shakes hands with someone they already know? Twice?

I went dancing last Saturday, as I do. However, my friend was still braving the wilderness, so I put on a pretty skirt and heels and went alone. When I walked in the door, after not having to show my ID or pay the cover charge, someone shouted my name. I turned around, and it was a friend's brother (W.) W. gave me a big hug, and we chatted for a bit. He introduced me to his friends, and we sat around and talked for awhile.

W. went outside to smoke, and his friend and girlfriend started making out. I started people watching while drinking my rum and coke. The girl turned around and saw me. "Anna. You look sad." "Um, no. I'm fine." Her boyfriend tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned around and started kissing him again.

An aquantince of mine from a theatre company (A.) I did lights and sound for walked over to the bar and saw me.
A. gave me a big hug as he asked "Anna! Are you allowed to be here?"
"Um....yes."
"You're seriously 21?"
"I sure am."
"I haven't seen you since you were 16! I'm sorry. How are you?"

We caught up, and then he left to talk with more friends. My usual dance partner and friends weren't at the bar that night, sdo, I put my coat and purse in my usual corner, and asked A. to dance. He said yes, and we went to the dance floor. His friends joined us, and we started dancing in a circle, as you do when you're with a group. I left to use the bathroom and ran into First Kiss Boy.

DAMN IT. He's like the plague.

"Anna! Are you 21?"
"We already went over this. Yes, I am."
"How are you? It's good to see you" he said as he STUCK OUT HIS HAND FOR A HANDSHAKE.

Who DOES that?

I shook his hand firmly, my pompous buisnessman's shake (because this situation was so absurd) colliding with his limp wristed, sweaty handshake.

Eww.

I told him I would see him later, and headed to the bathroom.
After that, I found W. and asked him to dance. He looked at me and said "I don't dance."
"Seriously? Ever?"
"Never."
"Aw man."
"Anna. A million guys want to dance with you."
"Oh yeah? Point out one in this bar."
"Ask someone. He'll say yes."

I decided to at least try, and asked a guy with brown hair. He said "I'd love to. I'm not very good, though."
Unfortunately, he was right. I always try to match the guy's rhythm, and he didn't have any. After the song ended, I thanked him and went back to dance with A.'s group.

We were dancing to Britney and Michael Jackson and Kesha and having a grand time. A brown haired man in a dark blue polo shirt danced his way over to our little group, and spun me around.

He asked me "Would you like to dance?"
"I'd love to."
He had a really good sense of rhythm, and how to move around on the small, crowded dance floor. He spun me around and around, and we kept dancing. Then, an older woman wearing a shirt that was a little too small for her, decided to grind on him.

Yikes.

I went outside, and came back in. He asked me to dance again, and apologized for the older woman.

A hip hop song was playing as we walked on the floor, and a balding man decided to act out the lyrics...on me.


"Back, back, back it up...Back, back back it up" the lyrics shouted, as the balding man literally "backed it up", ass first, into my crotch. I don't do the "fake ass sex on the dance floor". It's disgusting no matter who's doing it, do you really want to have fake doggy style sex in front of people?

Gross gross gross.


Luckily, the brown haired man spun me around after I pushed the balding man away, and pulled me close. We kept dancing, and as the lights came up at 1:30, he spun me around one last time....

Unfortunately, two older women were doing the "fake ass sex on the dance floor" move.
One had her hands out, drink in hand.
The glass went flying.
I got beer in my hair.
The glass fell on the floor and shattered.
Everyone started apologizing.

My favorite bartender came over and started sweeping up the glass, as one of the older women draped herself over me. "Honey. I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" she slurred. Trying not to smell her breath, I said "Yeah, thank you. Are you okay?" "I'm fine, sweetheart. You're so adorable! And young! Are you allowed to be here?"

Then, First Kiss Boy walks up to me. "Anna, it was so good to see you! Maybe we can have coffee sometime?"
"Um, I don't know."

Then, he HELD OUT HIS HAND. AGAIN. And again, my pompous businessman's shake met his limp, sweaty handshake.

I left to get my coat, kissed brown hair polo shirt man on the cheek, and went outside.

Outside, there were plastic cups all over the sidewalk, so I started picking them up. A random guy helped me, and we walked to the trash can. He was talking at me the whole time, and then suddenly LUNGED at my face. I dodged away, and his cousin came and dragged him away.

I decided to walk home another way, and walked by two broken planters. Pottery, flowers, and dirt were everywhere. I went back to the bar to let the bartender know, and talked to them for a bit.

Just then, a guy came in with cuts all over his arms, and I offered him my Toy Story band-aids in my purse. He accepted, and put about 10 Woody, Jess, and Buzz band-aids on his arms and hands. He put Southern Comfort on the cut on his stomach, and winced as he took a breath.

5 minutes later, the waitress said "All right guys, it's 2." I said thanks, and headed out the door once more. I told the cute guy I had been staring at all night "You have a really nice smile." He smiled at me and said "Thank you, you're really beautiful. Have a good night." I smiled back and said "Thanks, you too."

Aw, yay!

I put on my headphones, when I heard "I'm not stalking you, I promise."
I turned around, and there was a guy who I had seen in the bar every time I went in there since I turned 21.
"Um, okay."
"Where are you headed?"
"Home."
"You know, it's awfully rude to be listening to music when someone's trying to have a conversation."
"Um......"
He walked half a block behind me for two blocks, and then thankfully turned.

I was finally alone to belt out some Shania Twain as I walked home.

Another eventful Saturday night.

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