to those:

Last night Lee Ann Womack was playing at Midnight rodeo. I feel like that's an indicator of a rocky patch in an otherwise wildly successful artist's career. She sang good. No problems as far as music was concerned.

However, I would like to spend some time disclosing the nature of the company. My dear friend who went with me, Courtney, can possibly attest to some if not all of this.
Subject numero uno - the first partener of the night. we basically walked around, two step-ish. He tried to spin me once but disaster ensued. so he resumed the "count in your head" method of moving across the floor. he was nice, though.

numero dos - this is the one that requires the most discription.
First answer me this, why would a five foot three guy ast a five foot eight girl to dance. Does he not know this is an uncomfortable set up. apparantly not. I don't remember what he said his name was, but i DO remember telling him ine and then not four minutes later him asking me my name, as though I hadn't just told him. so, naturally I gave him a different name. and the next time a different one... and so on. finally he started getting irritated. he and his compadres were hanging around me and mine a little too closely. The descent one spun courtney away and left me there to endure the awkward onslaught of frustrating conversation with short-boy. He was double fisting millers from the time they came over til i managed an escape - but the escape only led to further awkwardidity... yeah I said it. but more on that later. The recounting of the events to follow are in so way motivated by self glory- in fact they're more embarrassing than anything else.
now it's drunk-short-boy. he keeps coming over and standing RIGHT next to me. so i'll start to talk to someone else or look around, or go to the bathroom or something. occasionally i look over to catch him openly gawking at me. crrreee--eeeppeeeeeee.... one time i look over and say, "what? can I help you?"
"you're beautiful"
"thanks"
then I desperately start searching for some one to give the 'oh my goodness, for the love, please come rescue me' look. there's no one.
"why won't you look at me for more than five seconds?"
"because I don't want to."
then he changes his gawking to boring holes in my head.
I look over again, "what?!"
"do you smoke?"
"no"
"me either, do you want to go smoke with me"
"i just said i didn't"
"you know what i'm talking about"
oooohhh..... how could i be so naive. of coarse I don't want to go off with you somewhere. idiot. gross little,drunk, short idiot.
"no"
"come on, let's go"
"no"
"come on." tries to grab at my hand which i quickly pull away
"I said no"
then he goes back to boring holes in my head only with more intensity.weirdo.

mind you, this entire time I have been taking small steps away from him and trying to get in a place where i could either make a break for it or get picked up to dance by some knight in shining armor. we moved approximately a total of 10 yards.

I feel his drunk, short little eyes...
"what?! what's your deal?"
"you know if you're not interested you could just say so. you don't have to toy with me. blah blah blah..."
he grows to a level of hostility that makes me look at one of his buddies and say, "are you gonna tell your friend to stop yelling at me?"
He then turns to said friend and is trying to explain himself when I see my opportunity to get the hell out of dodge.

Thankfully some guy that was dancing with courtney earlier came along and took me around. so enters numero tres.

he is devistatingly unatractive. an okay dancer.but how many songs can you do the exact same steps and spin combos over and over and over and over and over and ove....

numero three is intermitantly peppered through the rest of the night as a dance partner. however. this boy was getting a little sloppy towards the end. at one point he elbowed me in the sternum with a force that knocked a little air out of me. he felt really bad - but the second time it wasn't my sternum he got and that's when it got unbearable.
"oh man I'm sorry, I hit you in the chest. which one was it?"
that's when i just walked off.
maybe a harsh reaction. but also,who asks that?
weird weird weird.

then there is quatro-
a seemingly attractive man.





WORST DANCER EVER.




cinco cut in on quatro and not a moment too soon.
cinco was fairly forgetable. nothing outstanding or painful.


Despite all the weird encounters and unatractive men, the evening was pretty fun. enjoyable.

But in retrospect - it only confirmed my opposition to going to bars to meet people. going just to dance id fun. but there are some wacky, shady, indulgent characters in that atmosphere.

I also felt assured in my apathy towards whether or not I get hit on or asked on dates. most of the joes.. wait... all of the joes i talked with weren't exactly the kind of men I would entrust with my number ... or my real name. and people are like, "i'm surprised you don't date more."
I'm not.
i am not.
maybe my "standards are too high."
maybe i'm "a snob"
maybe i do "shut people down"
maybe i do "make them feel like crap"
but really, i just gotta be me. ya know?

i just gotta be me.