You'd think I'd be moping around, but not me. I went to the movies on Sunday, as planned, with C-Money. We saw The Aristocrats, which I enjoyed. What made it good was the backstage glimpse of the world of comedians. It was all very Erving Goffman and actually would have been better if the filmmakers had applied a little sociological analysis. It was interesting and funny, if perhaps a tad long and imperfectly edited.
In the evening, after total coordination indecision on my part, I met fellow blogger, Diane Mandy, for a night of salsa dancing in Falls Church, VA. She was accompanied by a charming gentleman who was kind enough to pay my cover and even dance with me a few times. (Note to the fellas: if you are on a dancing date with your gal and her friend, make sure to dance with the friend at least two or three times. It makes everyone happy and is the polite thing to do.)
Diane and I didn't talk too much due to the very loud music and dancing, but she told me she liked my blog and we learned a little about each others "real" lives. (I like her blog too--why didn't I say that? Compliments always throw me off.) She said my luck was sure to change. I said, "At this point, not dating seems like luck."
"Well, you're young, you have plenty of time."
"You're in your mid-twenties, right?"
"Um, no. I'm 36."
She seemed a little taken aback. "Oh. Well. You look young!"
"That's just because I'm so immature. Anyway, I have the rest of my life, which is plenty of time."
I should have told Diane that she looked young too (we're approximately the same age). I certainly thought she looked younger than me. The spiky blonde hair she writes about looked great. She had a more grown-up, sophisticated style than I did. Diane wore a simple, straight black dress that had semi-complicated spaghetti straps. She paired it with silver dance heels. Very nice.
As usual, I looked a little goofy in my dress-up clothes. I wore a stretchy, semi-shiny, black shirt with a flower pinned to the front and a twirly black skirt. Sometimes this combo is mistaken for a dress. I had black faux-fishnet hose and my ten year old black 40's style heels (back strap, round toe, block heel). These shoes are dissolving from the inside out, but they still look okay because I only wear them for dancing and special events.
The club/restaurant was empty when we got there and stayed empty the whole night, though a few other groups trickled in. With only one or two exceptions, the other patrons were Latino. To my astonishment, the kitchen seemed to be serving full meals well past midnight. All of the other women were wearing jeans or tight black pants. One woman wore a black shirt with a triangle cut out of the front. When she danced it looked like one of her breasts wanted to escape. She also had on an enormous belt-buckle with a word on it--Madonna, "boy-toy" style. I had to see the word. It was: JAMY. (Not really, but it was my nickname.) Heh. That serves me right.
I danced with a very young guy who put a lot of pomade in his hair and must not have washed his hands after applying it because he transferred some of it to my hands. At least it didn't smell bad.
I danced three times with an old guy who was an excellent dancer. The first time I danced with him, I was a little slow on the leads. I'd get them, but be a half a beat off the tempo. Still, I hung in there and I was always able to recover. He made no attempt to give me a lesson but once or twice when I missed a lead, he'd give me a hint--just one word or an extra clear hand motion and I would get it. That's how you deal with someone who is not following perfectly. You help them out--you don't criticize or instruct. Luckily, he gave me another chance and I did better the next time. By the third time we danced, I was back to my old salsa form and he did not need to hint or help me at all. He had me doing triple spins and combinations just like the old days. I was gasping for breath at the end of each dance. I told Diane, "The more turns the better." Love turns.
By 1:00 am we had enough. It was great fun to meet another blogger. And it was very kind of Diane to invite me out on her date. Diane, the next time you're in DC, I'd be happy to play tour guide if you're interested.
Grateful for: meeting blog friends.