Chapter 5

JOHN

The next week was pretty routine. Luckily there weren't any real work issues to deal with, just general help-desk stuff and making sure the servers were being backed up correctly. I was simultaneously saddened and relieved I didn't feel more pain from the breakup. I felt a little guilty about that. I wonder what the last 6 months had meant, if anything. But most of the time I was more distracted by the idea of dating. This Friday, I was determined to go to a club and see what happened. That was pretty vague as far as plans go, but I really didn't have a better understanding of the process. I figured it was research.

After work on Friday, I went home and dressed in comfortable, but nice clothes. Dark jeans and a button down shirt, a coat and decent shoes. Then I called a cab and went off to a local bar/club to see what it was like. The club was pretty nice, Fridays they had random DJs and a pretty active dance floor. I'm not great on the dance floor. I take up a lot of room, and I don't know if anyone who could take me stepping on their feet. So I stayed near the bar, and watched. I couldn't help but hear David Attenborough narrating the action before me. "Here is a typical urban male. He has spent many hours on his appearance in order to attract a female. Like the bower birds of New Guinea his intricate dance moves are designed to baffle and confuse the female long enough to separate her from her friends and accept some refreshment from the bar. Oh dear, unfortunately, she doesn't seem to appreciate his advances and has moved on to join the relative safety of a group of females near the dance floor..."

I couldn't help but crack up, but quickly turned my attention to my drink, so nobody would think I was crazy just sitting in the corner laughing to myself.

There were a few cute girls around, but most looked too coiffed or too bitchy to approach. I wondered at that. Presumably, if they came without a boyfriend, they were here to dance, and perhaps meet guys. But most looked so intimidating that only the oiliest pick-up artists would attempt to vault their defenses.

That's not fair. Perhaps, I was projecting too much, and perhaps they weren't here to pick up guys. Just to have a fun night out dancing with friends. And deflect pick-up artists, which could be a sport in of itself.

I was starting to regret my declaration to Anna that I would ask a girl out as this looked tougher than I thought. And then I saw her. She'd just started her DJ set and it was good. Small, fine boned, dark hair, glittering eyes. She seemed almost elfin, or at least, more feral than the perfectly put together blonds that seems to move in packs.

She was putting out a string of great songs that blended seamlessly together, while smiling, and cracking herself up. I noted some of the other DJs were out on the dance floor, and then she handed off to a tall guy with dreadlocks and leapt out on to the floor and started break dancing. Like serious old school, cardboard and tracksuit, Beat Street-style breakdancing. And she was amazing!

I've dreamed of being able to breakdance since I was a little kid. I even tried it when my parents got a new fridge, but I was never coordinated enough, nor athletic enough to pull it off. It'd been a secret fantasy for years that I'd pull off some sort of training montage, and then drop into a non-stop breakin' frenzy in front of a group of people just exactly as she had done.