Annie Does a Singles Dance

Annie Does the Singles Dance

Every week I get an email from Dr. Cupid inviting me to a Calculated Couples Dance. I probably go to one a year. As I haven’t been for a while, I decided to go last night. The dance was at the Doubletree Inn which is less than a mile from my house. I played computer Scrabble beforehand so I wouldn’t be tempted to get there on time. My experience is that the women arrive on time and the men an hour or two later.

I put on makeup and picked out an outfit that was comfortable, except for the heels. Just dark black jeans and a black and gold top.

I had to use valet parking as the only parking was way at the back and I didn’t relish walking there later as it was not well lit. I checked in and received a “want ad” to fill out and put up on the wall. This I declined. For the first time in my life I didn’t get a name tag either.

The room was filled with us single seniors, although it is not billed as such. I pity anyone under fifty who thinks they’ll find a match at one of these dances. I was “young” for the crowd. Many of the women were completely decked out: big hair, tight black or metallic dresses with lots of cleavage showing. Although I have lots of cleavage, none of mine was showing. It’s obvious in anything I wear, including a sweatshirt. There was another contingent of women who just like me, presenting themselves as they are without much embellishment. The latter group seemed to be having as much luck finding men as the former group. The men were dressed much more casually.

I went directly to the bar to get a drink. The man in front of me looked exactly like one of my friend’s ex-boyfriends. He wasn’t that guy, though. He bought my beer! We were deep in discussion about the crazy people who working with him at the post office when a woman he knew asked him to dance. I wasn’t miffed, it was a good way to meet someone else.

I noticed that many of the women were seated. Not me. I am not playing that wallflower “please ask me to dance” game. I stood between two fellows and said I positioned myself to talk to two attractive men. One immediately asked me to dance. The song was a slow one. He didn’t dance dirty or hold me too tightly. We used the quieter music as an opportunity to small talk. He was just getting over his divorce and had recently moved to Arizona. He was going to start working as a bartender because his pension wasn’t enough to live on. Tell me about it! When he started mentioning how much he loved shooting and guns, I knew this guy and I were not on the same wavelength. He figured it out, too, so I didn’t have to make up an excuse when the fourth slow song ended.

I got another beer and stationed myself by the exit. The man next to me said he recognized me from previous dances. When I told him I didn’t attend many, he said he knew but I was a very “memorable woman.” Hmm. I gave him my card so he could look up my blog. Maybe he’ll call, but he probably won’t.


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