Salsa Dancing!

"Bailas muy bien, puedo tener tu numero? Podemos ir a comer o bailar alguna vez?"

And that is how the pick-up lines were tonight. . . .so smooth, which made me so awkward.

Well, anyway, I went salsa dancing tonight with my dear friend Emily Whitmore. It is a strange social phenomenon, this ritual of dancing. I enjoy it very much, to be able to move so quickly to the music and feel like you actually know what you're doing (I hope that I LOOK like I know what I'm doing, but I don't care if I don't). If you sit off to the side of the dance floor, you have to look around at nothing in particular until a random guy comes up and looks you in the eye and asks you to dance. The woman never asks the man, or at least that's how it seems. Sometimes when I've gone dancing here in the cities, I come home feeling classy and flamboyant (can I use that word?), but other times, I come back feeling trashy and gross. And sometimes I feel a little bit in between. Some men are great to dance with and lead so incredibly well, while other guys are just creepy and make you want to run and hide in the bathroom.

Oh well, I might as well enjoy my single days while I can, and go out dancing as much as possible. Gosh, I still have the beat of salsa music stuck in my head, and the smell of bizarre Hispanic cologne on my clothes. Ahhh, life in the city. . . .