November 1, 1998. Having an off night at swing dancing. (#197)

I got in my car, which was parked next to my house, and drove off.  The radio came on, with a commercial attacking state attorney general David E. Larkin.  Larkin was running for governor, and the election was two days away.  I changed the channel; I was tired of political advertisements this time of year, and I was planning on voting for Larkin so I did not want to hear what his opponent had to say about him.  Many of the things he was being attacked for were the exact reasons I was voting for him. My candidate of choice, who could not run again because of term limits, won four years ago, but Larkin was expected to lose this election.

I parked outside of the University Bar & Grill and walked inside, by myself.  My roommate Jed sometimes rode with me, but he had told me this morning that he would not be home when I left, and he would get there later.  I looked around the room and saw some vaguely familiar faces, people I had seen here before, but no one I actually knew well enough to talk to. Matthew was about to begin teaching the beginner lesson, as he always did.  I walked out to the floor with the others, where Matthew was directing us to assemble into two concentric circles, those dancing the lead part on the inside and those following on the outside.  Traditionally men led and women followed, although I had seen a few people switch gender roles occasionally.  I stood on the inside, and a girl I had never seen at the U-Bar stood across from me.  This girl was very attractive, slim with reddish-brown hair pulled back into a pony tail, and blue eyes.   She wore a light blue dress.  “Hi,” I said.

“Hi!” the girl replied, smiling.  “I’m Brooke.”

“I’m Greg.  Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Brooke replied.  “I’ve never been here before. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“That’s okay,” I replied.  “That’s why you’re taking the lesson before the dance starts, right?”

“Exactly!  So how long have you been dancing?”

“About four months.  I’m not that good.”

“I’m sure you’re better than me.”

“Give yourself more credit,” I said.  “Just have fun with it.”

“That’s a good way to look at it.”

We stopped talking as Matthew demonstrated the basic step.  I knew the basic step pretty well, but if Brooke was here for the first time, I wanted to make sure she saw what he was doing.  I practiced the basic step with Brooke a few times.  “I think you got it,” I said.

“Was that good?”

“Yes.  Looked good to me.”

“Thank you!”

Matthew called for us to switch partners.  “It was nice meeting you,” I said to Brooke.

“You too!” she replied as she moved on to the next partner.

Matthew had us practice the basic step again with our new partners; my next partner had not yet figured out the basic step the way Brooke had.  Next, he taught the outside and inside turns, as he always did, as we tried each one with a few new partners.  The second half of the lesson changed from week to week, and this week he was teaching the basic step of a different dance, the Charleston.  The last thing we learned was how to switch between East Coast Swing and the Charleston, something I had never learned before but wanted to, since I did not know enough Charleston to dance it for an entire song.  At this point, the circle of partners had gone completely around, and I got Brooke as my partner again.

“Hello again,” I said.

“Hi!” she replied.

“How are you doing so far?”

“I think I get it!  I just need to practice.”

Brooke and I worked through the basic step of the Charleston, and then transitioned into the basic step of East Coast Swing, just as Matthew had shown us.  “You’re doing really well,” I said.

“You think so?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks!  So do you go to UJ?”

“Yes.  I graduated last year, and now I’m in the student teaching program.”

“You’re gonna be a teacher!  That’s exciting!  What grade level?”

“High school math.”

“Nice!  I always liked my math teachers, but it wasn’t my best subject.”

“I get that a lot.”

“I’m a freshman, majoring in psych for now but I might change that.”

“Do you know what you want to do?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she said.

We tried the steps again, then Matthew called for us to switch partners. I asked Brooke, “Save me a dance later?”

“Yeah!” she replied.

After practicing Charleston, and switching from East Coast Swing to Charleston and back, with two more partners, the beginner lesson ended.  Brooke walked off the dance floor with her friends, and I would have done the same except that none of my usual group of friends was there tonight.

I stood to the side of the dance floor watching people dance the first song.  When the second song started, I looked around for someone to dance with.  Brooke was dancing with a guy from her group of friends that she came with, and I did not know any of the other girls there that night.  A girl I did not know stood next to me, not dancing, so I walked up to her and asked, “Would you like to dance?”

“No, thank you,” she said, with no other explanation or excuse offered.

I slowly walked around the room, in the general direction of the bar, but I did not attempt to ask anyone else to dance.  None of the people I felt safe asking to dance were here.  No Courtney, Cambria, or Erica.  No Bethany Bradshaw. No Michelle Parker; she was only sixteen, but I knew her family from church, and her older brother Brody was one of mine and Jed’s other roommates, so I was comfortable dancing with her, and she understood that I was not a creepy older man.  I would have even danced with Sasha if she were here, despite the awkward situation I created a few weeks ago when I confessed my unrequited feelings for her.  After having just been rejected asking someone I did not know, I was not sure that I felt comfortable asking another stranger.  I looked back to the bar and saw the bartender say, “Here you go,” pushing a reddish-brown drink with ice and a straw forward to a spot where no one was sitting.  No one claimed this drink.  After several seconds, the bartender was still looking at me.  I asked, “Is that drink mine?”

“Yeah,” she replied.  “I saw you coming over here, I remember you always order a Roy Rogers, so I just figured I’d get it for you.”

“Thank you,” I said, smiling.  I took a sip of my drink, feeling pretty important that the bartender knew my usual drink.

I continued walking around the room, walking past a girl who was sitting alone, not dancing.  “Would you like to dance?” I asked as I walked up to her.

“No,” she replied, shaking her head in the negative.  Just a few seconds ago, I felt important, but apparently I was not that important after all.

I looked back toward the entrance and saw Candace Walker arriving.  I knew her from when I used to be in University Chorus, and I had seen her here relatively regularly since school started back up again.  “Hey,” I said to Candace.

“Hey, Greg,” she answered.  “What’s up?”

“Not much.”  I heard a new song start to play, so I asked her, “Would you like to dance?”

“Sure!” she said.  “Just give me a minute to put my stuff down.”

When Candace returned, I led her to the dance floor and started doing the basic step and turns.  “Is Jed coming tonight?” she asked me.  I had introduced Candace to Jed in September, the first night of dancing after he moved back up here for the school year, and the two of them seemed to hit it off well.  They had talked and danced together for most of the rest of that night, as well as most of the other times I had seen both of them at the U-Bar on the same night.

“Yeah,” I replied.  “He said he’d be here later.”

By the time we finished our dance, as I walked over to where I left my drink, I could see Jed walking in the door.  “There he is,” I said.  The two of us walked to Jed, saying hello.

“Hey,” Jed said to both of us, then turned to Candace and asked, “Are you sure you’re supposed to be here?  You have a midterm tomorrow you should be studying for.”

“I know,” she said.  “I’ve been studying all day, and I think I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.  I needed a break.”

“Well, you came to the right place for a break!  You want to dance?”

“Sure.”  Candace walked onto the dance floor with Jed, leaving me alone.

I looked around.  Brooke, the girl I met during the beginner lesson, was standing not far from me, talking to one of her friends that she came with.  I remembered that Brooke promised me a dance, so I walked up to her and asked, “Would you like to dance?”

“Not right now,” she said.

Undeterred, I turned next to her friend and asked the same thing.  “No, thank you,” her friend said.

I sat at a table facing the dance floor, the same table where Candace and Jed had placed their things, and watched everyone dance, slowly sipping my Roy Rogers.  About three songs later, I got up to use the bathroom and get another drink, and when I returned, Jed and Candace had sat back down, deep in conversation.  I did not feel right interrupting and asking Candace for another dance.

No one else that I knew was there, and no one else that I knew showed up later that night except for Ben Lawton.  I had nothing against Ben, but I was not looking for guys to dance with.  After about an hour and a half, at the halfway point of the night, Matthew gathered everyone into a circle for the birthday dance.  I was bored and frustrated, since I had only danced two times so far that night, once with Candace and once with a stranger who was actually kind enough to say yes.

For the birthday dance, everyone with a birthday that week would stand in the middle of the circle, and people would jump in and dance with one of the birthday people until someone else cut in.  Usually each person’s turn lasted for about thirty seconds.  Today there were two guys and one girl in the circle.  I stepped in about a minute after the song started, slowly walking toward the birthday girl.  I took her and started doing the basic step, then turned her to the outside.  “Happy birthday!” I said.

“Thanks,” she replied, smiling.

I was about to try what I learned in the beginner lesson today, switching into the Charleston basic step, when another guy came up and stole her from me.  I walked back to the circle on the outside, feeling defeated.  I hardly got to dance with her at all.  That other guy cut in way too early.  I sat down for a while.  Maybe I would have more luck the second half of the night.

As the regular dancing started again, I sat on the sidelines slowly sipping on my third Roy Rogers of the night, wondering if drinking something alcoholic would make me feel better but not ready yet to give up my personal opposition to drinking alcohol. Ben Lawton saw me and came over to say hi.

“Hey, Ben,” I replied.

“How are you?”

“I’m not having a good night, honestly.  No one is dancing with me.”

“Just go up and ask.”

“I have been.  I’ve mostly gotten turned down.”

“That happens sometimes,” Ben said.  “Don’t let it get to you.”  But it was in fact getting to me.  Not only was I feeling like some kind of loser, but I was bored, just sitting there watching people dance.  I took a sip of my Roy Rogers, and Ben asked, “What are you drinking?”

“Roy Rogers,” I said.

“Do you not drink alcohol?” he asked.  “You’re old enough, aren’t you?  I always thought you were in my year.”

“I turned twenty-two in August,” I explained.  “I just don’t want to drink.  I don’t like the idea of being out of control of myself.  It doesn’t seem Christ-like to me.  And I didn’t grow up around drinking.  My dad drank a lot when he was younger, but he’s been sober since I was in elementary school.”

“Makes sense.”

Ben and I continued making small talk about my student teaching and his classes; he was my year in school, but he had not graduated yet.  When the next song began, he said, “I’m gonna go dance.  It was good talking to you.  I hope you enjoy the rest of the night.  Go ask someone to dance.”

“I’ll try.”

I got up and noticed Brooke standing by herself.  She promised that she would save a dance for me.  Maybe she was ready for that now.  I walked up to her and asked, “May I have that dance you promised now?”

“No,” she replied, sounding a bit uncomfortable and irritated.  She walked away from me.

I sat back down, confused.  She seemed so friendly when we were paired in the beginner lesson.  What changed?  It almost felt like she had suddenly found out something about me that made her want to avoid me.  But, if so, what did she find out?  And who told her?  The only people I knew here were Jed, Candace, and Ben, and none of them would have any reason to make Brooke not want to have anything to do with me.

I sat there bored and not dancing for another half hour after I talked to Ben.  By now, it was 10:15, and I had pretty much given up trying to find someone to dance with.  I was ready to go home.  Jed had driven separately, so I did not have to stay until closing and give him a ride home.  I was not having fun, and I was under no obligation to stay.  I walked around to make sure I said good night to the few people there whom I knew.  Jed and Candace were sitting at a table, talking; I told both of them that I was feeling unusually tired, and wanted to call it a night early, I said the same thing to Ben a few minutes later.

As I walked toward the door, I saw Brooke and her friends standing at the side of the dance floor.  Brooke made eye contact with me, and I stopped for a second, holding on to a shred of hope that she was about to realize that she had not yet fulfilled her promise to save me a dance.  Then I looked away and continued walking.  It was not worth getting turned down again.  I started to walk away.

Just as I turned away from Brooke and her friends, I heard a voice behind me shout, “Yeah!  Turn around and go home!  You’re weird!”  I turned back to look at them, and they were all giggling.  I started walking away from them again.

As I passed the bar, the bartender who had made my Roy Rogers asked me, “Another one?”

“No thanks,” I said.  “I’m gonna call it a night early.”

“Sleep well!  I’ll see you next week!”

I nodded, then walked to the car and sat there for about five minutes, thinking, before I turned the car on.  I do not know if it was Brooke or one of her friends who called me weird.  I do not even know for sure that their comment was directed at me, but it certainly appeared to be. None of this made sense to me. Brooke was inexplicably two-faced, acting friendly and nice and then suddenly turning on me.

One person was nice to me that night: the bartender who made my drink.  I genuinely appreciated her gesture.  The fact that she knew my regular drink without me even having to say it really made me feel like I belonged there, like Sunday swing dancing at the U-Bar was a part of my life and I had a place among the people there.

But nothing else tonight gave me that feeling.  My usual friends that I danced with were not there, and they had been showing up less and less often since school started.  And now I was finding it impossible to dance with new people. I realized on the way home that night that I was no longer having fun swing dancing.  New episodes of The X-Files were scheduled to begin the following week, at the same time as swing dancing, and when I found out that Eddie Baker and John Harvey and their roommates at the De Anza house were going to start their X-Files watch parties again, I chose that over swing dancing.  The nice bartender had said that she would see me next week, but she did not see me the following week.  In fact, I never saw her again.

This was not, however, my last time swing dancing ever, nor was it even my last time swing dancing at the U-Bar.  I went back under somewhat different circumstances several months later, but I eventually quit again.  That is a story for another time.

I came back to the world of swing dancing in 2007.  I was in my early thirties, living about thirty miles from Jeromeville across the Drawbridge in Laguna Ciervo, and I followed some friends from the church I went to at the time to a weekly swing dance in midtown Capital City called, appropriately enough, Midtown Swing.  As I went through the beginner lesson and started dancing with my friends, all the muscle memories from eight and nine years earlier came flooding back to me.  I even saw Ben Lawton there; he was still around and still swing dancing after all those years.

I was also caught off guard that night in 2007, because Lacey Kilpatrick was there.  That was only the second time I had seen her since moving away from Jeromeville, and things still felt a little awkward, plus it was completely unexpected because I never knew her as a swing dancer.  And that encounter was even more strange in hindsight, since I became a regular at Midtown Swing for about a decade after that, and I never saw Lacey there again.  Wait… I haven’t mentioned Lacey in this story yet.  Hold that thought.  That is also a story for another time.

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Readers: Have you ever quit a regular hobby? What made you quit? Tell me about it in the comments.

I wrote on the other blog some behind-the-scenes information about this episode: click here.

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