...It's an unfortunate pair.
But! You can't have one without the other. The longer I'm single, the more that truth is apparent. Single IS to mingle.
Mingling is a numbers game. It's a matter of weeding through the weirdies to find a few decent people. The more people you meet, the more you are likely to find someone to date, marry, and mate with. Makes me think my grandmother had it right when she'd tell me "You have to kiss a few frogs to find your prince". I guess in the end you only need ONE to pan out, right? ... I'll take those odds.
In Episode 1, I mentioned one of my favorite modes of mingling: Dancing. This episode pays tribute to the weirdie-hall-of-fame-ers found on the dance floor. The following are 6 brief stories, based on actual events.
Leather Coat Guy
Leather Coat guy was suave in the beginning. It's likely because he practiced his few good lines in front of the mirror every day, and recycled them over and over again with each new woman he met. "Where's the line?... the line to dance with you beautiful!" he'd say. His flirting did lead to a first date (which I'm sure he's also had a lot of practice with) but he was a totally different guy then, full of back handed compliments like "You look great, I'd almost say you you're high maintenance - but in a good way!" and "You're so fun! I was scared you didn't have any personality!". His conversation also left something to be desired, asking far too personal questions for a first date. Needless to say there wasn't a second date, but that wasn't the end of Leather Coat guy. Two years later he showed up to another dance wearing the same leather coat (in summer!) and dropping the same lines. And, in spite of his saying "I want to date you" on that first date, there was no recognition in his eyes this summer evening. "Bet you've never had a guy in a leather coat hit on you before!" he said. I couldn't believe it. That was returned with an "Actually, I have" as we left him sputtering off his pre-rehearsed lines to other unsuspecting females. Fast forward 2 months later and we run into LCG again, only this time he remembered every little detail from the first date, including personal information. It was creepy...My personal theory is that he has multiple personalities... now if only he could work on multiple pick up lines...
Language Barrier Guy
Language Barrier Guy is sort of the poster child for what's wrong with several of the "frogs" I've come in contact with while dancing. It's hard enough to hear someone who is hell bent on having a conversation with you over music played at dangerous decibels, but when you add to that a language barrier - you might as well find something to stare at and count down the minutes until the song is over. I had a devil of a time trying to communicate with him. He'd say something (I'm pretty sure came out) in English, and I'd nod or offer a non-committal phrases like "Yeah, right!". After which he'd respond with a look of confusion which let me know I had clearly misunderstood. He'd say something else, motioning with his hands for demonstration, and I'd giggle nervously and offer another cover-all word like "okay!". It was awful. Seriously folks, for all I knew he was telling me about how his dog suffered a tragic death earlier that day... or the burning he feels when he urinates.Either way, after no less than 7 attempts to learn each other's name and start a conversation, LBG found something to stare at and count down the minutes. (Thank you push-up bra!).
Prospector Joe
If you're into old westerns (which I'm not) you'd easily picture this next character. He's old, and round everywhere. Round face with round wire glasses and a round belly accented with a large round belt buckle. He's missing a few teeth, and really into digging for gold. (I mean that last part metaphorically, because the places I saw him "digging" were unlikely to produce any gold.) He was also a recovering alcoholic.... of 3 days.... and only because he ran out of liquor. PJ lacked a few manners and any concept of personal space. He never asked you to dance, instead he'd hold out his hand assumability - or help himself to your waist and whisk you away. He was a dance-floor stalker too. Every time you'd turn around, there he was! Later that night (or maybe it was morning) he followed us to Denny's. We had to recruit a few fellas by that point and assign them as body guards. Joe eventually wandered off to mine for gold elsewhere. He-ate-my hair Guy
By far the creepiest story I have to tell tonight is the story of He-ate-my-hair guy. Or Paulo. He was ethnic, and like LBG was unable to clearly communicate with words. I believe at one point he tried saying "jour seester, she is bootyful. But jew are muy muy bootyful!" which is supposed to translate into a compliment, somehow. He was very affectionate and insisted on similar affection. He'd caress his partner's neck and kiss everything he could, then he'd pull her face in to kiss his neck/face/lips. A bit forward, right? Nothing could be worse than being raped in such a manner on the dance floor. Or so we thought. There was one point while he was dancing with my friend that he ran his hands through her short blonde mane, and made to smell it. Before she could shrug away he placed a chunk of her hair in his mouth like someone might place a rose during a romantic tango. (He was Latin, maybe he was improvising?) Entirely disturbed, my friend pushed him away but he held on close. As a bystander to the whole event it was rather hilarious to watch. When my friend returned to our circle she had on a look of disgust. "Was he trying to eat you?" we asked, assuming she was most upset about his slobbering on her hair. In fact, that was the least of her worries. "I think he had an erection on my leg.... should I be flattered?" She'd-tap-that Girl
Not all of the hall-of-fame-ers are male. This entry belongs to a very sexually charged young woman who we've run into on more than one occasion. She typically comes alone, so she has adopted us as her gaggle of girl friends to chat with during the fast songs... They say you are at your sexual prime in your early 30's, and I can understand that. I suppose I just assumed by that point you'd also know what you want... but She'd-tap-that girl is anything but sure. She would hit on every man in the room, old or young, but she'd also hit on their dance partners. Basically anyone that was breathing was her type. And you know? I'm not a critic of same-gender attraction, but it's one thing to allow your girlfriends to grope you, in jest, and another thing altogether when the playfulness is gone - it's rather uncomfortable. 'Your honkers (who calls them that anyway?) are so perky tonight, I love it!" she'd say with her lisp. Then "Girl, you look hot tonight. I'd tap that.... No really, I would. There's a room upstairs.... Ok, I'm kidding.... But seriously, my house is 4 blocks away!... Haha! I'm just being funny.... Unless you're into that sort of thing..."As much as she seemed unsure about whether she was kidding or not, we were equally unsure of her gender preference and our comfort with her grabbing our "honkers".
Mr. Red Shoes
Mr. Red Shoes is a beautiful Jamaican man... nearly perfect... aside from not understanding the word "no". His purpose was to help me to understand the importance of Red Shoes. And I share his story to illustrate the same for you. You see, my girlfriends and I have a code phrase which roughly translates into: "Get me the hell out of this situation!". All you have to do is bring up "red shoes" in casual conversation. We get the hint, and we remove the friend or the offending person. My Jamaican would follow me around, he put his number in my phone, and held me close. He fully intended to take me home that night, and was not taking my "no" for an answer. (Albeit, I'm sure my giggling didn't help him take me very seriously). To anyone looking in, I was into him and he was into me, and there should have been no interference. I wanted rescued though, maybe from myself as much as him. I would give my friends "looks" and beckon them over with my finger behind his neck... for which later I was scolded. My friends came up to me, asking where I had left my red shoes, and all I could do was giggle and say "in the car". I was rescued that night, but endured several phone calls later. I learned that my Jamaican was a professional baby maker and creator of single mothers, even if a very handsome one.
---
So there you have it. The best of the worst. They, the (un)fortunate few, who have earned the hall-of-fame status.... One day, when my memory fades, I pray these are the first memories to go. (smile) Until then, I suppose if you were to ask me if I'll continue to pay my dues to the single-mingle-events?... you might be surprised to hear my non-hesitant "Yes!" --
I look at it this way: There are worse things in life. I mean, If Gaga can pull of green sequins invading her rear-end, I can certainly endure a few more awkward people on the dance floor.
