(no subject)

I suck, I really suck...but it's not for a lack of trying. Last night I tried to go out with the "normals." A regular from the boxing class is leaving for NY, and we went out to bar-hop and celebrate. I really like these people, and they are phenomenally diverse as a group. We started in the Front Page, as it turns out around Ballston it is very common to hit the restaurants to drink at night. This time I kept my mouth shut about the annoying guitar playing in the place, not one word about skanks from me! That part of the evening was fine. My favorite giggles came when a couple of the class noted how normal and unassuming we looked, and how cool it would be if we all got in a fight. "We'd clear the place!"

I ignored my pain when we walked passed what was once "Cafe New Delhi." It was a very packed yuppie bar, and I couldn't disagree with the decision from the money that was clearly flowing. I just wish the restaurant had moved rather than shelved their amazing-but-cheap indian food.

The problem came up when we went to the Clarendon Grill. We parked at a friend's house, and the whole crew descended on this place. It seemed odd that there was a $5 cover to hang out in a dumpy place right down the street, but I was interested in seeing this group dance. It turned out they bring in a DJ on weekends, and the place was packed. I'm sorry but I hate places that are packed. You can't move anywhere w/o pressing through the crowd and wiggling. That would also describe the dancing of all the white people to the "black" uh "urban" music. There really wasn't any room to dance, and I was putting aside my usual judgmental self to try, TRY and experiment with other social scenes. I let myself be dragged to the dance floor, and danced to complete crap. It was actually too crowded to dance, though coach and a tall skinny girl did manage to pull off that dry-humping booty-on-the-floor dance. He is married and notes that while he has no intentions, that he was surprised after marriage that his booty-radar didn't turn off (reminding me of a conversation I had with msdragonfly when we noticed we were gawking at the same too-young-girl). He's very open about scoping, gawking, and commenting - but it's 100% safe. I was not unimpressed with the floor-booty action, and could easily imagine how being able to move like that was a great opener. She was no stranger to the wiggle, that was obvious. I watched a friend try too hard, and the rest with their various wiggles. It wasn't hostile, but my threshold was quickly reached. I just hate crowds and being stuck in a swirling mass of people. I have to credit the crappy suburban place - they were making money hand over fist, and the girls were very attractive. It's just that they and the entire atmosphere were just annoying as all hell. Leave it to me to be annoyed by breasts of hot women being pressed against me all night, but there is nothing sexual about being squeezed by because you're in the way. I swear I have an accidental tit reflex, and my body involuntarily jerks away when I feel unexpected tits moosh against me. I wandered off for a drink, let myself be led to the dance floor again, then just snuck off and hit chairschool.

Before I left I was hit on by an older woman. Just like last week with the gay guy, I kind of played along just to see how the interaction went. Her approach was 100% dead-on what I'm used to - subtle dancing, following me off the floor, minor connections with the hand, a long touch to the small of the bank, a surprisingly forward ass grope, and many hand-holding excuses. I was just as skilled as allowing the aggressions while fending them off - I was not offended by any of it, but I just as quickly sent the counter-signals, smiles with looks away, squeezes of the hand followed by release. She just wasn't attractive to me, but I was not unappreciative of the skill of the attempt or the fact it was being made.

To my dismay, I arrived at chairschool between old pop hits and synth pop sets. Egads man! Granted I was arriving long after I usually leave, but I needed to be in my familiar element and time didn't matter at all. Paul finally spun outside and...god I don't remember what he played but between my pent up frustration and some amazing classics I just lost my shit. I saw my reflection in the glass, and was a little shocked that in my big baggy clothes you could see my body clearly...I looked muddafuggin good out there, at least to my own review. Pissed off I can dance, at least in the genre of my choice. I am pretty sure I managed to spin and dance my ass off w/o boxing! I saw a digital picture that eriss took of me and was veddy veddy happy. Post that thing so I can gank it! Hope it looks as good the day after as I thought it did at the time.

I had to contain my laughter when I saw the girl I gave up playing with / hitting on writing her phone number down in a matchbook - same as she did for me. Nice and pretty girl, but once again not a single regret.

I'm stuck, but I don't think I mind. The more I branch out socially the more obvious it is to me that if I belong anywhere, it is with this group of freaks. I don't think it's just the room to really move on the dance floor, I don't even think it's the acceptance level of all the geekiness, but for all my being annoyed with the lack of commonality with people in the "scene," I feel more of it there than anyplace else in my life. I don't know if I'm happy with it, but once again I find that it's more appealing than the alternatives.