2008 had been a fruitless year for me on the dating scene. It (almost) ended in tragedy when I (almost) called 5-0 on a guy's butt for chasing me on the highway (note to self: make that a blog story later this month) and for calling my cell phone / sending me text messages / sending messages on MSN and / or BlackBerry Messenger over 30 times in less than 3 hours. I had proof of harassment. Happy New Year to me!
So my friend MJ and I had not been out clubbing in a few months and really wanted to get our grooves on on the dance floor before going back to work in January. We decide to go out to a night club I had never been to on boul. St-Laurent, in Montreal. We arrive and it is still early so we have a few drinks and finally hit the dance floor around midnight. Quickly, my friend spots a guy whom she thinks has potential. I could not care less about men at this moment. I am here to dance my booty off 'til my new boots won't let me. Fun and dance is all I have on my mind for the night and it does not involve cruising. A year ago almost to the day.
There I was, dancing in circles :oP, when a guy approached me and asked me to join him and his friends for a drink in honor of his birthday. Well, I can appreciate a free drink and he wasn't rude, offensive or vulgar so... slowly I approached. I enjoyed my glass, chit chatted a bit and then returned to my friend MJ and my dearest dance floor.
It's already past 1 and the Birthday Boy returns. "I'd like to buy you another drink. Come with me downstairs to the lounge so we can talk", he suggests. The dance floor was where I wanted to be but, granted, I had to have his mouth an inch away from my ear to hear what he was saying. I wasn't truly eager to go, I didn't like the idea of leaving my friend (but she seemed to be happy with her newfound companion), I would only be downstairs from her and the guy was not repulsive. To the lounge we went.
I was not half done with my drink that: a) I was tipsy; b) I knew I would surely not be spending my life with the Birthday Boy; c) I knew I would certainly not be spending the night with the Birthday Boy (c'est pas pour la vie, pis c'est pas pour la nuit non plus, le grand!). I was sipping my last sips and thinking to myself... how do I get rid of him? How do I let him down gently? (Must be the customer service in me). I hint that I want to go back to my dancing friend. We head back upstairs. With every step I take, Birthday Boy a few inches behind me, I think: "I have to lose him". But what to do? I won't hide in the ladies' room until closing time! I reach the last step and lift my head up. All I remember seeing is a pair of broad shoulders (no... broad! - think bouncer-shaped deltoids) in a blue shirt. And there was my answer. SCAPEGOAT!
(not Bodyguard shown above - but you get the idea)
I quickly looked around and he did not have a girl to his arm. He wasn't particularly physically close to anyone and so I tackled him. I literally bumped straight into his chest, wrapped my right arm around his torso and grabbed his right hand in my left one and quickly begged: "Can you please dance with me... Please?" I don't know if it was the desperation in my eyes or because I hadn't given him any time or, even better, any other option but to dance with me. "Hummm... right. Sure", is basically what he replied to my aggression. When I bumped right into his chest and wrapped my arms around him, it did not matter what he looked like or how old he was. I did not check him out; did not even think twice or wonder if he was my type or not. That was not the point. The idea was not to find a hot thang to flirt with. I needed to escape the Birthday Boy! I had found this lovely pair of shoulders as my rescue team. You go, girl!
Then it dawned on me. What if he is at the club with his girlfriend, whom has possibly gone to the washroom, will come back only to find me wrapped around her man?!? I could get slapped across the back of the head just because I was in desperate need of a way out! Quick! "Are you here with your girlfriend?" He giggles. Good, I look like a moron. "No! I would not have let you do this if I were". Pfew. What if he is on a date? He isn't. He assures me that he is alone, out with a male buddy. Fine. I can now breathe easily. I thank him for allowing me to jump on him and for accepting to dance with me. I try to justify myself by letting him know that I usually don't physically harass men in bars (Good God... what have I done?) and I try to explain that I am running away from a guy that I really don't want anything to do with; a guy who is a bit more persistent than I want him to be. Again, although the level of alcohol in my blood is sufficient for me to know that I will certainly not be driving home, I have a moment of clarity. I physically attacked an innocent man, chose him as my instant bodyguard, and now I am trying to explain how he is saving me from another guy. Now how sweet is that? Who will save him from me is probably what he's wondering right this minute! A nutcase attacked him in the attempt to repulse another man. How attractive is that for a single man?
By some miracle, Birthday Boy has found me. He grabs me by the arm and invites me to follow him for more drinks with his friends. Oh, Birthday Boy, THANK YOU! Thank you for proving to Bodyguard that I truly attacked him for a safety purpose and not for my own naughty-single-gal-out-on-the-town agenda! Bodyguard does not say a word, but does not seem impressed with Bday Boy's behavior. I do not let go of the torso I have come to appreciate in the last three minutes and inform Birthday Boy, as he can see; that I am already dancing with someone and it would be rude of me to just drop my dancing bouncer for drinks with another man. Bday Boy turns around and leaves. I dance with Bodyguard some more. Ten minutes later, I put a dry, but very appreciative, kiss on his shaved head. We dance until closing time.
So my friend MJ and I had not been out clubbing in a few months and really wanted to get our grooves on on the dance floor before going back to work in January. We decide to go out to a night club I had never been to on boul. St-Laurent, in Montreal. We arrive and it is still early so we have a few drinks and finally hit the dance floor around midnight. Quickly, my friend spots a guy whom she thinks has potential. I could not care less about men at this moment. I am here to dance my booty off 'til my new boots won't let me. Fun and dance is all I have on my mind for the night and it does not involve cruising. A year ago almost to the day.
There I was, dancing in circles :oP, when a guy approached me and asked me to join him and his friends for a drink in honor of his birthday. Well, I can appreciate a free drink and he wasn't rude, offensive or vulgar so... slowly I approached. I enjoyed my glass, chit chatted a bit and then returned to my friend MJ and my dearest dance floor.
It's already past 1 and the Birthday Boy returns. "I'd like to buy you another drink. Come with me downstairs to the lounge so we can talk", he suggests. The dance floor was where I wanted to be but, granted, I had to have his mouth an inch away from my ear to hear what he was saying. I wasn't truly eager to go, I didn't like the idea of leaving my friend (but she seemed to be happy with her newfound companion), I would only be downstairs from her and the guy was not repulsive. To the lounge we went.
I was not half done with my drink that: a) I was tipsy; b) I knew I would surely not be spending my life with the Birthday Boy; c) I knew I would certainly not be spending the night with the Birthday Boy (c'est pas pour la vie, pis c'est pas pour la nuit non plus, le grand!). I was sipping my last sips and thinking to myself... how do I get rid of him? How do I let him down gently? (Must be the customer service in me). I hint that I want to go back to my dancing friend. We head back upstairs. With every step I take, Birthday Boy a few inches behind me, I think: "I have to lose him". But what to do? I won't hide in the ladies' room until closing time! I reach the last step and lift my head up. All I remember seeing is a pair of broad shoulders (no... broad! - think bouncer-shaped deltoids) in a blue shirt. And there was my answer. SCAPEGOAT!
(not Bodyguard shown above - but you get the idea)I quickly looked around and he did not have a girl to his arm. He wasn't particularly physically close to anyone and so I tackled him. I literally bumped straight into his chest, wrapped my right arm around his torso and grabbed his right hand in my left one and quickly begged: "Can you please dance with me... Please?" I don't know if it was the desperation in my eyes or because I hadn't given him any time or, even better, any other option but to dance with me. "Hummm... right. Sure", is basically what he replied to my aggression. When I bumped right into his chest and wrapped my arms around him, it did not matter what he looked like or how old he was. I did not check him out; did not even think twice or wonder if he was my type or not. That was not the point. The idea was not to find a hot thang to flirt with. I needed to escape the Birthday Boy! I had found this lovely pair of shoulders as my rescue team. You go, girl!
Then it dawned on me. What if he is at the club with his girlfriend, whom has possibly gone to the washroom, will come back only to find me wrapped around her man?!? I could get slapped across the back of the head just because I was in desperate need of a way out! Quick! "Are you here with your girlfriend?" He giggles. Good, I look like a moron. "No! I would not have let you do this if I were". Pfew. What if he is on a date? He isn't. He assures me that he is alone, out with a male buddy. Fine. I can now breathe easily. I thank him for allowing me to jump on him and for accepting to dance with me. I try to justify myself by letting him know that I usually don't physically harass men in bars (Good God... what have I done?) and I try to explain that I am running away from a guy that I really don't want anything to do with; a guy who is a bit more persistent than I want him to be. Again, although the level of alcohol in my blood is sufficient for me to know that I will certainly not be driving home, I have a moment of clarity. I physically attacked an innocent man, chose him as my instant bodyguard, and now I am trying to explain how he is saving me from another guy. Now how sweet is that? Who will save him from me is probably what he's wondering right this minute! A nutcase attacked him in the attempt to repulse another man. How attractive is that for a single man?
By some miracle, Birthday Boy has found me. He grabs me by the arm and invites me to follow him for more drinks with his friends. Oh, Birthday Boy, THANK YOU! Thank you for proving to Bodyguard that I truly attacked him for a safety purpose and not for my own naughty-single-gal-out-on-the-town agenda! Bodyguard does not say a word, but does not seem impressed with Bday Boy's behavior. I do not let go of the torso I have come to appreciate in the last three minutes and inform Birthday Boy, as he can see; that I am already dancing with someone and it would be rude of me to just drop my dancing bouncer for drinks with another man. Bday Boy turns around and leaves. I dance with Bodyguard some more. Ten minutes later, I put a dry, but very appreciative, kiss on his shaved head. We dance until closing time.
No comments:
Post a Comment