A friend on mine, TJ, has been inviting me out to go line dancing (Yes, line dancing. In southern California. And no, I don't get it either) with him and some of his friends. So last Friday night I finally took him up on the offer. Not wanting to be the only newbie line dancer in the group, I dragged my friend Alexis along. And by dragged, I mean she was so ecstatic at the thought of dancing in a line I was worried she might explode, covering me with belt buckles, boots, and plaid.
We arrived a bit late (story of my life) and missed the lessons they do at the beginning of the evening. Needless to say we weren't quite up to jumping into the complicated do-see-dos, though we did the Cupid Shuffle, which I am blaming for the awkwardness that followed shortly thereafter.
Two drinks in Alexis and I are standing at the edge of the dance floor watching the dancers and trying to see if we could learn one of the more simple dances.
No such luck.
There were no simple dances.
They only got progressively harder!
Just as we were about to give up and admit defeat at the hands of the line dance (until next week that is) a two-step came on. A nice looking young guy wearing a cowboy shirt, boots, belt buckle and 10-gallon hat came up and asked, "Do either of you know this dance?"
"I don't, but Alexis does." I chime in. "She should go!" I say kind of pushing her towards him.
"Alright," she says shrugging her shoulders. "Hold my beer."
As 10-gallon hat man twirls her around the dance floor I make myself comfortable on a bench and take a drink of her beer.
Ugh... a bit warm. This is why I prefer bourbon. Even when it's warm it is still delicious.
"Hi, my name is Sonny." I hear as I feel a tap on my shoulder.
I recognize that high pitched annoying voice before I even turn my heard, but I hope and pray that there are two people named Sonny that sound exactly alike.
No. Such. Luck.
I am staring dumbfounded into the face of Sonny. Or as I like to think of him, the guy who couldn't catch a clue with a baseball mitt.
Yes, loyal long time reader. Thaaaaat Macaulay Culkin look-a-like, Sonny.
For those of you new to the blog you can find the back story here:
http://southernbellebythebeach.blogspot.com/2012/02/right-on-right-on.html
And the follow up to the back story can be found here:
http://southernbellebythebeach.blogspot.com/2012/02/get-mitt-and-catch-clue-im-just-not.html
He obviously doesn't realize it's me, or he wouldn't have introduced himself. Maybe I can pretend to be someone else. Or that I don't speak English. Hmmm... Japanese seems an unlikely first language and my Spanish isn't good enough to get past "Me llamo Mario. Pasame la grapadora."
Instead I go with "I'm Crigger. We have actually met before."
And you can see he is trying to place me. And then it dawns on him. Oh, yes. Crigger. The girl who wasn't ready to date and doesn't return phone calls or text messages. When the flash of recognition strikes I start to worry that maybe he is going to start yelling at me.
But he doesn't.
Instead he tells me I look different. Which is true. On our first date I was more Blair Waldorf than the Daisy Duke I was channeling for line dancing. He asks me how I've been. Who I am hear with (I really should have said my boyfriend, but I went with group of friends). And whether or not the donated tapes of a noted TV legend have been digitalized yet. Which incidentally was a topic of conversation he harped on during our first, and only date for a good 30 minutes. It was during this portion that I strategized how to get out the bathroom window.
Seriously, dude.
Let. It. Go.
Seeing that none of my friends were going to come to my aid, I went into full Seal Team 6 mode formulating my escape plan hoping to cut him off before he could ask me out again.
"Well, it looks like my friends are getting set to leave. I need to go close out my tab."
Actually, I didn't have a tab because TJ bought my bourbon-- unlike you!
"Oh, okay. Well, I know the last time we talked about going out again you said you weren't really ready to date. So, ummm...."
Oh no, oh no, oh no! He's going to ask me out again. Dang it! I've told you I'm not interested in as many ways I can without actually saying the words. Now, you are going to make me say them to your face?!?!
"Well, would you like to go out again sometime."
"Ummm..."
"Well you can let me know."
"Yeah..." I say practically bolting across the room and throwing my arm around TJ as I frantically tell him to hug me back and pretend I am his favorite person in the world.
"Thanks alot for rescuing me!" I say.
"What happened?" TJ asks.
"I ran into the worst date in the world. And he asked me out again."
"Oh no! I'm sorry. I didn't see that happen."
You mean you weren't watching me across a crowded dance floor, TJ?
Well! Hmmmmph!
It worked for another small town girl across a smokey room.
Oh well! Maybe next time. ;)
We arrived a bit late (story of my life) and missed the lessons they do at the beginning of the evening. Needless to say we weren't quite up to jumping into the complicated do-see-dos, though we did the Cupid Shuffle, which I am blaming for the awkwardness that followed shortly thereafter.
Two drinks in Alexis and I are standing at the edge of the dance floor watching the dancers and trying to see if we could learn one of the more simple dances.
No such luck.
There were no simple dances.
They only got progressively harder!
Just as we were about to give up and admit defeat at the hands of the line dance (until next week that is) a two-step came on. A nice looking young guy wearing a cowboy shirt, boots, belt buckle and 10-gallon hat came up and asked, "Do either of you know this dance?"
"I don't, but Alexis does." I chime in. "She should go!" I say kind of pushing her towards him.
"Alright," she says shrugging her shoulders. "Hold my beer."
As 10-gallon hat man twirls her around the dance floor I make myself comfortable on a bench and take a drink of her beer.
Ugh... a bit warm. This is why I prefer bourbon. Even when it's warm it is still delicious.
"Hi, my name is Sonny." I hear as I feel a tap on my shoulder.
I recognize that high pitched annoying voice before I even turn my heard, but I hope and pray that there are two people named Sonny that sound exactly alike.
No. Such. Luck.
I am staring dumbfounded into the face of Sonny. Or as I like to think of him, the guy who couldn't catch a clue with a baseball mitt.
Yes, loyal long time reader. Thaaaaat Macaulay Culkin look-a-like, Sonny.
For those of you new to the blog you can find the back story here:
http://southernbellebythebeach.blogspot.com/2012/02/right-on-right-on.html
And the follow up to the back story can be found here:
http://southernbellebythebeach.blogspot.com/2012/02/get-mitt-and-catch-clue-im-just-not.html
He obviously doesn't realize it's me, or he wouldn't have introduced himself. Maybe I can pretend to be someone else. Or that I don't speak English. Hmmm... Japanese seems an unlikely first language and my Spanish isn't good enough to get past "Me llamo Mario. Pasame la grapadora."
Instead I go with "I'm Crigger. We have actually met before."
And you can see he is trying to place me. And then it dawns on him. Oh, yes. Crigger. The girl who wasn't ready to date and doesn't return phone calls or text messages. When the flash of recognition strikes I start to worry that maybe he is going to start yelling at me.
But he doesn't.
Instead he tells me I look different. Which is true. On our first date I was more Blair Waldorf than the Daisy Duke I was channeling for line dancing. He asks me how I've been. Who I am hear with (I really should have said my boyfriend, but I went with group of friends). And whether or not the donated tapes of a noted TV legend have been digitalized yet. Which incidentally was a topic of conversation he harped on during our first, and only date for a good 30 minutes. It was during this portion that I strategized how to get out the bathroom window.
Seriously, dude.
Let. It. Go.
Seeing that none of my friends were going to come to my aid, I went into full Seal Team 6 mode formulating my escape plan hoping to cut him off before he could ask me out again.
"Well, it looks like my friends are getting set to leave. I need to go close out my tab."
Actually, I didn't have a tab because TJ bought my bourbon-- unlike you!
"Oh, okay. Well, I know the last time we talked about going out again you said you weren't really ready to date. So, ummm...."
Oh no, oh no, oh no! He's going to ask me out again. Dang it! I've told you I'm not interested in as many ways I can without actually saying the words. Now, you are going to make me say them to your face?!?!
"Well, would you like to go out again sometime."
"Ummm..."
"Well you can let me know."
"Yeah..." I say practically bolting across the room and throwing my arm around TJ as I frantically tell him to hug me back and pretend I am his favorite person in the world.
"Thanks alot for rescuing me!" I say.
"What happened?" TJ asks.
"I ran into the worst date in the world. And he asked me out again."
"Oh no! I'm sorry. I didn't see that happen."
You mean you weren't watching me across a crowded dance floor, TJ?
Well! Hmmmmph!
It worked for another small town girl across a smokey room.
Oh well! Maybe next time. ;)
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