If we go out.... Um... aren't there men
out there?
| ABOUT HOLLY | DONATE |
Living the Life of Holly |
because life happens |
one column at a time |
Column # 214: Don't
Laugh |
|
If we go out.... Um... aren't there men
out there? |
|
|
Living the Life of Holly I fell into my good friend’s couch. “I’m done dating.” Ralph sharpened his gaze. “How come?” I flung an arm over my head. “You know. It’s too complicated. First I have to tell whomever I’m dating about my lack of visual memory, and how I won’t recognize him once he steps away from me.” Ralph shrugged. “Men don’t care about that.” “Then I have to explain I can’t eat gluten or dairy, so eating with me can be difficult. I’m tired. Why bother?” My best friend leaned back and took a long drink of his beer. “Men don’t care about that stuff. They only care that you’re pretty and that you like to smile. That’s all men want.” “Smile?” I frowned. “What’s that?” “Get up. Now.” He commanded. “You’ve lost your smile and your laugh? I’ve had enough.” “No.” I picked up the remote. “Let’s watch a movie.” “We’re going out.” “I’m not in the mood.” I started flipping channels. He picked my shoes up and threw one at me. “Get your shoes on. Hurry up. The night’s still young.” “Ralph. Come on. It’s nine o’clock. We should be watching a movie.” Forty minutes later reluctant me walked into a dance club. Ralph positioned me near the dance floor with a glass of wine, kissed my cheek and left to check out the women. Actually the band was pretty good, if you like cover tunes with long, fluorescent wigs. Seventies. Eighties. Nineties. And a crowd who remembered buying those albums. At least I was hanging with people who remembered buying the albums. A man clinked his wine glass against mine. “Salud.” “Salud.” I answered. “Where are you from?” I was guessing Spain, since he greeted me in Spanish. “Originally from Iran.” I nodded. “You’ve come a long way.” He got close. Very close and smelled my hair. “You smell good.” I couldn’t control my laughter. I was wrong. Ralph had been right. I had found my smile. And. None of my maladies would scare away Mr. Iran tonight. He pulled away. “Why do you laugh?” “I must go.” I said, urgently. “Thanks for the chat.” He raised his eyebrows. “Why don’t you meet me next Friday at the wine bar downtown.” “Maybe.” Um. Where was Ralph? “Say yes.” He leaned in to smell my hair again. “Um. Bye,” I said as I woozled away. Ralph caught my arm as I walked past the bar. “You done, already? Me too.” He drove me to another club and left me next to the dance floor with a fresh glass of wine. The video of the music was projected against an oversized screen. Wasn’t it too loud? Was this music, or noise? I ignored a tap/knocking on my shoulder as there was no way that banging could be connected to anyone I wanted to talk to. Another tap/knock. I turned. He swayed forward and back while trying to stand and motioned to the dance floor. Um. No. I turned back to the videos. Wonder where Ralph was? Another tap. I turned. Three men were standing close; nobody was taking responsibility for the tap. Ok. I could see the humor of a tap-and-run in a middle-school-kind-of-way. Another tap. This man. Tall. Cute. Looked harmless. Not drunk. I finished my drink and followed him onto the dance floor. Why was I here? Wouldn’t a movie be more fun tonight? Was I really single again? Out with Ralph, again? Telling everyone my ex-boyfriend turned best friend was my cousin, again? Dancer took my hand and spun me into a series of twirls that made the room spin long after I was standing still. He pulled me close. “You’re not dancing with me. You’re working against me. Relax.” I laughed. Wow. Is that how I was at relationships, too? Working against my partner? He twirled me again and I became a series of stomps and shuffles as I tried to keep up with the spins. He pulled me close and smiled. “The dance floor is the one place where the woman is supposed to be submissive.” I laughed. Um. Is that how I am in relationships? Domineering? Trying to take all the control? He breathed into my next spin. “Let ME lead.” I laughed harder. Was I leading? Here I was thinking I was such a great follower. And. He thought I was leading, again? Is that what happened with my ex? Was I trying to lead all the time? Was it the wine that made me giggle at the absurdity of me bossing around relationships? He stopped dancing and looked into my eyes. “It’s bad manners to laugh at your partner.” I stood stunned. “But I’m not laughing at you.” I planted my feet on the spinning floor. “I’m laughing at me.” He looked at me, trying to decide if I meant it. He squinted his eyes. “Why are you laughing at yourself?” “Because.” I laughed. “I’m hopeless when it comes to dancing with a partner. I’m better at solo dancing.” Maybe that’s the way my life works best. When I’m alone. Without a partner. Dancing to my beat…. not trying to match another’s rhythm. “You’ll learn” He twisted me around him, again. “It’s just a skill, like everything else.” I laughed as he began to whip me through a series of pretzel moves, then muted my laughter so as not to hurt his feelings, then laughed louder at the absurd thought of ME trying to mute my laughter. Me give up laughing? Yeah, right. Wanna try another column? How about #215 Hardly Working to Fly which is about getting my blades fixed. or Click here to go to Current Columns to pick another column. Or perhaps you would like to go to Column Finder by Subject to choose your next column about dating, or epilepsy or friends... you choose! Don't miss out! Sign up to receive a free copy of Holly's column via e-mail each week. (All e-mail addresses are private... NEVER, EVER shared.) Or send a blank e-mail to Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com Subject: Subscribe Me. Comment on this column in The Forum Or Send Holly your comments. Tell her what you really think! Your comments might be published on her website, or in her weekly Yahoo Group e-mail. Send Comments Wanna vote for your favorite column? Fan's favorite column picks will be added to the Fan's Favorite Five page. Send your pick for your favorite here. Fan's Favorite Column Pick Copyright © 2004 by Holly Winter |
bravenet.com