That I could dance sober and still kill it! Who knew? I was totally NOT interested in going out and listening to this great band because I would have to be doing it without social lubricant. Nada. Nothing. Okay-fries and a Coke. I told Beloved on the way there that I was NOT going to dance. Period. End of story. I can only handle so much. The cravings were going to be beast enough to keep in check.
I sat like a flower at our table for the first 30 minutes feeling the flush in my cheeks of everyone staring at me as they had a good time. How that is possible, I am not sure-but in the newly sober mind, it is reality. I was just watching and absorbing what it is like to have 100 people on a tiny dance floor all at various stages of inebriation. Giggling 21s with a beer in hand boogeying like they own the place to the guy with bloodshot eyes and a tipped hat nodding along at the edge of the linoleum, barely keeping beat but at least on the dance floor. Unlike me. But watching him gaze into nothing when such a swirl of life was about him cured my cravings.
Then a slow song came on. Beloved looked at me with puppy dog eyes..he is one of those rare breeds that loves to dance. I couldn’t say no. Off we went, swaying like a couple of sweaty palmed 8th graders in a gym decorated with construction paper and helium balloons. There was a tiny moment of bliss.
Next song was a fast one-a new classic. Uptown Funk You Up! Damn-and it did! My groove thing came back and I blossomed from wall flower to owning my own little spot on the dance floor. I am thinking all my drunken nights of gyrating on dance floors in college bars, honkey tonks and legit dance clubs has created muscle memory! I just let myself go and danced. Let me be me! We danced the band to closing!
Cold fries and a warm Coke never tasted better.
Daring Truth 