How to pick up a girl

I went out dancing with the girls tonight (Melly, Cara, Chantal, Kristy, and Sarah joined us later). It was a bit of a strange crowd: less busy than usual, and a higher guy-to-girl ratio. We’d been dancing for less than half an hour when we suddenly realized that we were pretty much surrounded. I rapidly began to have distinct sympathy for deer surrounded by a pack of ravenous wolves.

There were two guys (non-creepy good dancers) to one side looking like they were having a good time, but definitely interested. There were three guys in matching uniforms of striped golf shirts and ball caps dancing on another side (I use the term “dancing” loosely here. They get points for effort). To complete the circle, there were two creepy guys in open white button-up shirts over wife-beaters kind of swaying to the music, but mostly just staring at us.

One of the uniform guys, the really tall one, seemed distinctly interested but also fairly shy. The dance floor was pretty packed at that point so such a big guy had very little room to move. He danced just like one of my favorite friends, kind of goofy but with the beat, not really bad. He likely would have done okay on his own if his friend was either less drunk or less dumb. The friend came up and “warned us” about the two good dancing, non-creepy guys across the way. He said to “look out for them” and also that “they’re gay.” Okay buddy, push off. Eventually he got the picture and took the rest of his pack with him.

As for the wife-beater jackals, just imagine them there all night, only as a succession of yucky, creepy guys who would occasionally grind up against us or stare blankly at our chests while swaying to something completely other than the music. Seriously gross.

The two good-dancing non-creepy guys just kept on dancing and having a good time. Sometimes they wandered off for a bit, but they eventually danced back over. Sometimes one would go off and the other would stay and dance with us, never intruding on the group but staying nearby and obviously enjoying the music. We left the dance floor to grab drinks and found them pleased with our return.

Eventually, after about two solid hours of dancing, they began to integrate themselves into the group a bit. All along they’d been somewhat mirroring how one or another of us was dancing, maybe making a bit of eye contact, but still no body contact. Now there was more direct interaction: dancing with one of us, more eye contact, or some casual conversation. It soon became fairly obvious that the younger of the two was interested in one girl in particular and she seemed to return the interest.

I struck up a bit of a conversation with the older of the two. He was beginning to look a bit worn out and was sitting out a song every now and then. He sighed that we were hard to keep up with. Every so often he was kind of signaling his friend to see if he was ready to leave (which the friend definitely wasn’t). I teased him that he shouldn’t have worn a sweater for dancing at the bar and that he was giving up just as we were saying that we admired their persistence. He said that it wasn’t exactly a test of their friendship since the younger guy really just lived in his basement. I replied that it was funny because we’d been warned about the pair of them earlier. He laughed at that and replied that they were definitely not a threat, that they’d been in there once before dancing to Wham and Boy George. Not that they didn’t like girls, but if they were the kind of guys that we needed to be warned about, they would have been humping our legs by now. I pointed out that the other guys must have just felt threatened because they could dance and that we were perfectly happy to hang out with non-creepy boys that can dance. He said we didn’t need to worry about them, that they were willing to put in the time. I mentioned that we appreciated that they were helping us fend off the creepy guys. He followed it up with an uncanny imitation of one of the creepier jackals. “If only finding a girl were so easy”, he exclaimed, “I wouldn’t have to use my brain at all!”

Eventually the dancing started to wind down and he convinced his friend that it was time to go. The friend was too shy to ask for a phone number, so Sarah made sure that arrangements were made and everyone left happy.

It turns out that there are still nice guys out there, not just wolves and jackals. They’re just a rare breed (Noncreepius gooddancius).

(As for me, I enjoyed the dancing, but I am definitely too old for more than 3 hours non-stop. My knees are angry with me, my hips aren’t speaking to me, my back is giving alarming twinges, and my feet checked out hours ago. I’m going to die at hockey tomorrow.)