Dancing: Episode 1 "Dancing with the stars"

I confess, I lie about my age. Frequently. 

Sometimes I'm younger (especially when being "younger" makes my accomplishments more impressive) ... most of the time I'm older. - - But! Since blogs are all about being honest you should know that I am really 25. 

Back to lying.  

I think it's fair to describe my "friend pool" as mature. And as mature thirty-something's, we (:cough cough:) often find ourselves at "mid singles" (30+) events. Most commonly, these are dancing events. I'm not talking ballroom dancing, but it's certainly not bump'n'griding either.... It's somewhere between "bar dancing" and "cousin Lisa's wedding reception dancing". 

Picture this, only 50 years later: 

In fact, some of the people pictured here might STILL attend these sort of functions, though I can't be sure. The regular attendees average an age of 40, have been through at least one marriage, and have kids older than I (really) am. Though I usually date "older" men, this is a bit extreme for me.

Yet I still go. Religiously.

I have several reasons why, which will span more than one blog-post, but today I'll focus one. 

Or three. 

Morgan, Fidel, and Johnny.

It's like an episode of dancing with the stars (doppelgangers anyway) every time we go! I have boogied on the same dancefloor with the likes of Morgan Freeman, Fidel Castro, and Johnny Depp! It's totally okay to be jealous. Thankfully, these characters show up as religiously as we do. I've even danced with Fidel on one occasion, a night I will never forget. 

I was having a very... uncomfortable night... due to my menstrual cycle (which has a mind of it's own sometimes) so I decided to "sit out" during a majority of the songs so as not to aggravate the situation with my dancing. What I didn't realize was there was an invisible neon sign I must have been wearing around my neck. It probably said something like "I'm here alone" or "Easy prey" or maybe  "I'm in my prime baby-making hour" - because I got more male attention this night above any other like it. 

Fidel walked back and fourth in front of me a few times before he managed to make eye contact. I thought my face read "piss off", but it must have been shadowed by my invisible neon sign. He asked me to dance. (I agreed, because my mama taught me better.) And, because I'm sure you are all wondering what he was like - he asked me about my religous background, if I had any kids, then stared at my boobs. It was less than romantic.

I'm sure Johny and Morgan have more class. Though, I can't say for sure since I haven't found the nerve to do more than stare at them (from a safe, non creepy, distance) as of yet.  For my own cheap entertainment, I've contemplated starting a conversation something like this:

"Has anyone ever told you that you look exactly like Tommy Lee Jones? I mean, the resemblence is remarkable!........ no?......... Morgan Freeman, really? ......... Yeah, I guess I can see that now, you are black after all....... You get that all the time? Really? That's fascinating." - - But then maybe that's why I get the guys like Fidel, becuase *I'm* the one who lacks class?

Oh well. For what I lack in class I absolutely make up for on the dance floor. It's just a shame that there's no mirror ball trophy. I think Johny and I could sweep the floor with the competition.  

-Mag.