My allegorical speed date with a supermodel

dancing, personal

ME: Hi there, would you like to go out on a date with me?

SM: Sure!

[Date begins]

ME: So, uh, how are you doing?

SM: Great! Just jetted in from Paris, learned some more French, bought this great new dress, had some drinks with Chirac, you know, same ol’ same ol’. How about you?

ME: Um, I ate some wheaties this morning. I took a shower. And, uh, yeah.

SM: [Flirtatiously whispers something in French]

ME: [Smiles nervously]

SM: Hey, watch this! [flawlessly juggles silverware and an Asian pear]

ME: Whoa! [pathetically demonstrates patting head and rubbing stomach simultaneously]

SM: [Growing impatient, grabs me in a sexy embrace]

ME: [Trips over feet and falls on the floor]

SM: [Sighing]. So, hmm, let’s talk about music! I was listening to this great recording yesterday…

ME: Ah, I burned this kick-ass Moby mix yesterday!

SM: Whoops! Looks like it’s time to move on! Thanks for a splendid time, uh, see ya around.

ME: [D’oh!]

* * *

What really happened:

FRIEND: [Sweating bullets, stumbling off the dance floor] Whoa! Were you just dancing that 20 minute song, too?

ME: [Also exhausted] Yeah, with Julia [attractive and famous dancer on performing tour from Europe]

FRIEND: [Making universal oh-shit, I feel for ya expression] Oh man!

* * *

Bottom line: Julia’s one of the best dancers around (and a sweetheart, too!). However, I was cringing just feeling her politely masked but nonetheless undoubtedly intense boredom dancing with me. Why? I’ll get into that in another entry soon.

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