He didn’t respond when I sent the message, I’m sad and lonely. I think I’ll go sit under the stars. So I decided to go out dancing instead.
Dancing is the best remedy for sad and lonely. Who needs him anyway! There were plenty of cute young guys at the club willing to give me their attention.
I especially enjoyed the one with the brown skin and sweet smile. The one who looked me straight in the eyes each time we danced. He was beautiful and happy. And gay. But who cares. I wasn’t looking for a date. I did like the attention. It seems even the young pretty straight girls prefer to dance with me over their boyfriends. What can I say? I’ve got it going on on the dance floor! The only problem is, their boyfriends get mad at them.
Trevor was there. We’re a good match. Few can keep up with our frenetic pace and fancy footwork under the blaring funk music and flashing lights. He said he was glad I came. It was nice to hear that. I like to feel appreciated. Some day, or night, the right guy will come along, who does just that…appreciates me and puts the action behind it.
Chalk it up to another awesome dance party Friday night!
I better not leave without mentioning Ashed. He approached me on the dance floor and asked me to step outside so he could tell me something. What the hell, the bouncer was standing right there and we were on the main drag where all the nightlife is. He told me I was gorgeous. He was young, like the others. He wanted me to take a walk with him but I declined. He seemed confused as to why I wouldn’t go along. I excused myself and told him it was nice to meet him. He never came back inside. A little stroke for my ego, then back to dancing with Trevor.
The evening ended with a bit of icing on the cake in the form of a nice close hug from beautiful guy with sweet smile (and soft blue sweater!). I think I can still smell his cologne on my skin (no sweater for me, just a small red sleeveless shirt and sweaty skin underneath). I hope his buddies didn’t get mad at him.
And just think, the alternative was to sit at home alone and feel sorry for myself. And wonder why the new guy never called. And, most likely, write about it.
I think I made the right choice. I like the ending to this story better!
Copyright Suzanne Norton 2015