All the Single Ladies...should salsa at Loring Kitchen!

Feeling the need to go out and shake things up somewhat, I decided I had to to go out this weekend.  The snow slow-down on Friday banished all interest I may have had about going out that night, so Saturday seemed perfect.  I had a prime parking spot on the right side of the snow-emergency parking rules, so therefore, did not want to move my car.  When I mused over my options, I remembered that my hot tub conversation partner from the gym last week mentioned a free salsa dancing night on Saturdays at a place near my new apartment.  Using Google Maps, I determined it was only 8 blocks away.  I was sold.

I quickly donned a combination of warm and dance-capable clothes, threw some strappy heels into my purse, and headed out into the snow.  The leggings under my skirt did not really keep me warm without pants over them, but I persevered anyway, reminding myself that I grew up with this weather!  I trod happily along, not knowing what to expect, but confident that this adventure would be fun.  It is sometimes surprising that I am the same person who sometimes cannot decide with which foot to start walking!  My nerves were steely, is that how one might describe nerves?

I crossed over the Nicollet Avenue bridge that spans across I-94 with excitement; I can walk to downtown so easily now!  This was a momentous crossing, my virgin voyage.  My joy was fleeting, as my mind does not dwell on anything, even happy thoughts.  My thoughts hopped around madly from such things as how easy it would be for someone to climb over the fence and jump to their death on the highway to how like a child one moves when all swaddled in winter garments.  My skirt felt like a costume, marking me a hipster who wear skirts in bitter cold because looks are more important than warmth?  With my knew high boots, which are conveniently practical and trendy, I looked almost badass, in an army-boot-chic sort of way.  I delude myself, I am simply incapable of badassitude!

For a moment I thought I turned on the wrong street, as apartment buildings lined the street and no flashy lights signaled a salsa place that I could see.  But pushing along further, I suddenly spied the place...it's side entrance having been obscured by one of the apartment places.  My feet slowed for a beat, because this almost looked too fancy for me, what a surprise.  I think it was my certainty that the man from the gym would be here, welcoming me with a smile and an instantaneous lesson in salsa technique that kept my feet moving inside.  Once through the door, my poise returned.

But certainty is a funny thing...it always get's the last laugh with me.  I believe people much too easily!  He was not there, and I did not see him for the entire night.  After changing into my shoes and taking up a graceful pose by the side of the dance floor, I began to surrender to the music, and the night.  While I sipped my first glass of wine, I continued to care about finding the man and dancing with him first, to gain some experiential confidence.  Before long, however, I was approached by a man, who swooped in on me as if I were a juicy field mouse and he, a hungry owl.  How unexpected and delightful!  This was no high school dance.

Going out alone has only a few downfalls I have found.  The most despicable is the matter of the unattended drink.  It is a definite NO-NO to leave your drink unattended as a single female.  The small chance that there is a scheming man ready to drug your drink and slyly make excuses for carrying you out like a sack of potatoes deters most young ladies from taking such a risk.  Consequently, when drinking for one, each drink becomes a commitment...until it is finished you are wed to that glass or plastic cup.  At a salsa dance, a wedding ring would not deter a partner from asking for a dance, but a wine glass in hand caused me to have to turn down 5 men!  Next time I am going to do shots!

(I was able to hang my coat on a hook that held no allegiance to a certain table, shove my boots under an unused stool, and even find a sort of cool place to hide my purse while I danced...on a chair at the bottom of a stack of chairs near the floor.  I felt the place was dark enough to obscure it, but still think, next time I will stick everything in my coat pockets.  It felt very freeing to walk around with just my wine glass.)

Sadly, as I result of my two glasses of liquid courage (which definitely helped, but were not not needed), I dance with only three men in all, after receiving at least 8 invitations, a constant stream.  I was content with that.  I covered the gamut of partners and feel sure of my imminent return.  My first partner, a middle-aged man with a little girth about him, thought he was a better leader than he really was.  We danced for a bit with out much issues, as he guided me through the basics.  Then he tried to tell me a new step, with words that did not match how he led me and I struggled to comply...he coaxed me with words and more words, until I had to tune him out and pretend he was leading me better.  I figure it out eventually, but he was hard to follow even then...could it be the girth?

My second partner was a younger, thinner man, who exuded a sense of boyish propriety.  When I told him I had very little experience he assumed the role of teacher and tried to tell me the basics I knew already.  Then he led me through only very basic steps, changing in up only slightly.  Our dance helped me to loosen up some, but I felt was banal overall, lacking soul.  It was a very proper dance, exactly what I would expect from such a man.  I have heard that you can really get to know a man by the way he dances, and now I am starting to believe it.  What would someone say about me after I danced with them?  I shall have to put out a survey.  I saw this guy later dancing with someone else, and this dance seemed to have more energy and fun, but I could still a stiffness to his sensuality that spoke volumes about him. I just wish he could have set the bar a little higher for me...why not see how far I was able to go?

I took a little food break partly so I could finish this glass of wine without interruption, partly so I could interact more with a particular bartender.  Some serving people put just a little extra effort in order to personalize your interaction with them, and it makes all the difference: a smile, eye contact or a slightly unique way of asking the generic questions.  It is hard to say if he was doing his job well or flirting with me or doing his job well by flirting with me, but I wanted to interact more.  So I ordered some food, and while I did, I noticed he had some words tattooed on his forearm.  Unconsciously, I must have felt a reason to ask about it, for I suddenly did.  He told me they were the lyrics of a Leonard Cohen song!!  I almost thought I heard him wrong for I absolutely love the 76-year-old singer!  I have completely forgotten the song, and did not read the lyrics, but some time when it is not busy, I will return to ask this bartender what compelled him to permanently mark himself with the words of my darling Leonard!

As I was reaching for my coat to leave, feeling no further inclination to dance, a tall, dark and handsome man asked me if I wanted to dance.  I did not need much cajoling, but a little was fun to wait for...and I was convinced!  He seemed a little buzzed, just to the point of careless boldness.  He scoffed at my admission of being a beginner, unconcerned.  We started to dance and instantly I was changed into a sassier self!  He led me with precision, joyously challenging me to have fun above all else.  We laughed out loud as we danced and I fell in love with salsa right then.  Our dance felt like a true partnership, a true meeting of two people who both had value.  I was not a simple-minded follower or a a prop for show in this dance.  We did not get everything right all the time, but we laughed about that.  He was not always paying attention to the other dancers around us, so I sometimes bumped into them on a turn, but I did not pause to apologize for him...the dance had caught me and it is likely we will dance again...if he remembers me without his beer-goggles.

What a gem of a place to find so close to home...it is a one-stop shop for flirting, dancing, wining and dining...I have found my match!

"Singling" in a Winter Wonderland

Minneapolis is being dusted with snow tonight, which I hope appeases my snow-loving friends. Snow really is beautiful and magical, but making a twenty minute commute turn into 100 minutes is not my idea of tranquility. After finally making it ho,e and wrestling with mailbox, I headed out in the downy night for a peaceful cup of hot cocoa at the Spyhouse Coffeehouse.

Sitting in a dark corner I was able to observe many patrons easily. As I watched some of my treasured Korean dramas I also noted that I have migrated to an area where there are more young people (and by that I mean, young MEN!). My new neighborhood is more fitting for me, a single gal still figuring her way in the world. I lived among too many families back near Powderhorn...all the men at nearby coffeeshops wore gold rings...and I am not about to hit on an attached man! I will have to work on my flirtation skills as well as my ability to engage in conversation with strangers.

Last night, I swam at the end of my workout at the gym. The hot tub, whirlypool-thingamabob seemed like a nice conclusion for my muscles. Two men were in the tub already and engaged in conversation about swimming. I got in, conscious of the fact that I had not shaved my legs but not caring if they judged me for it. I tried to create a private space around me, for no reasonable reason, and tried to pretend the water was as hot as it should be.

The older of the two men soon rose to get into the pool for his swim, and I stretched out a bit further, hoping the water would get warmer through sheer patience. The younger man across from me saw right through my invisible barrier and started a conversation. Personal boundaries are amazingly hard shells for something you cannot see!! As soon as he spoke, I felt the shell crack and fall away, revealing a soft and gooey me inside. Conversation oozed out of me and all semblance of aloofness shattered. My attitude completely changed so I became immediately approachable...but, only after I was approached. Hmmm...

We spoke for a long time, of dance, work, dance, travel and dance. He is a ballroom dance instructor and wanted me to visit the studio sometime. He is clearly the person that I have not yet learned to be...completely unabashedly affable. I haven"t master the unabashed part. Two things I took away from the conversation: one-he told me how I spoke reminded him of dance...it was easy, flowing; two-he commented that a person may look like they do not want to talk, but perhaps they are like me, and just need someone else to make the first move.

I vow, today, to practice talking to people more often at the gym, at the coffeeshop and anywhere I can. In fact, I did this already! As I wrested with a screwdriver and my mailbox (there being no key to it yet) two men came out of the apartment closest to me. I asked them if they knew how to break into a mailbox. With some hesitation, they gallantly came to my rescue and one of them in under 5 seconds had the mailbox open and my mail was in my hand! I opened the door for interaction and literally had another door opened for me! I think I am learning my lesson - this WORKS!