Yeah, I remember back in my single days, being at a club and getting the
urge to dance, strolling up to a table of gals, and going around the whole
damn table, asking every single one to dance. "No." "No." "No." "No."
"No." "No." And then crawling into my own asshole for the rest of the
evening. Naw, I was usually loaded enough I didn't give a damn, which
explains why I was masochistic enough to keep asking. Then there's the
women that assume you're hitting on them, when, by golly, you just want
to dance. There was one like that in a small club in New Meadows, Idaho,
around 82, I asked her to dance, she looked at me like I was a cockroach
and said no. So I found someone else, we danced our asses off, and gal No.
1 sheepishly approaches me, and asks ME to dance. Then, of course, I went
and tried to hit on her.
My one big regret: Never learning how to polka dance very well. Now,
that's dancin'. -- Terry Smith
