binge dancing

Sometimes I have these ingenious ideas like, "let's go out dancing Thursday night, Friday night and Saturday night." And of course it is ideas like these that she will not let go even though I would have rather stayed home to eat popcorn or something really fun like that by the time Saturday rolled around. Each night had its own challenges and its own fun.

On Thursday my suspicions were confirmed when I suddenly realized we were the minority wearing a wrist band. Not. Okay. To party. With eighteen year olds. It's just not. All the boys are under the assumption that all girls are gullible and attention starved. My favorite was when I turned around and he said "Thank you" before he walked away. Thank you? Really? For what? Not kicking your ass for rubbing your junk all over my butt?

It might not have been the ideal dancing environment but I will not lie... I still had fun and laughed. After all, she ran screaming through the parking lot to get away from the guy who promised her a cheeseburger... but gave her something else instead. The outfits were shocking, the dancing was shocking and yet I could not look away.

The third night was my favorite. She fell a lot and I had to make sure she did not fall into traffic and he painted me a mental picture of our life together while the others fought about something and even though we went there twice, I did not get a single vegan taco. The drunks were just too damn slow.