So this blog has lapsed a little because I wasn't sure anyone was reading it, and also partly because I switched to keeping a diary for about a week. To be honest, I'm not sure blogging is for me. It's definitely improved my writing, but whether it's helped my state of mind, I don't know.
That said, about last night...so I finally decided, screw this better judgment thing, and I went out with an old high school friend. We met at this place - a bit of a dive - where they served shots in test tubes and daiquiris in glasses the size of crystal balls. I didn't know anyone else there, but by the time we tottered out, we felt friendly enough that it didn't matter. The next stop was a club where another friend was spinning the opening set. The bouncer took my ID. "I'm just telling you this isn't ID in most places," he said, handing it back. "I'm from Dubai," I said, in clipped English, "it's the only ID I have." He just shook his head and I flew down the stairs before he could stop me. There were about ten people there, and so my friend bounced over and told us that it was our job to get the party started. I thought, it's dark, no one cares if things go a little crazy. The fact is, when it comes to dancing, I'm long on enthusiasm but short on training. Most people notice the enthusiasm and don't care about the training - I'm sure this applies to more in life than dancing - so it's never been an issue.
There were six of us. Two, a young couple, spent most of the evening dancing with each other. My friend bopped around the room, trying to get people on their feet. Another girl ran out to use the phone. This left me with one guy I didn't know, but he started pulling these crazy dance moves out of the air. I watched him for a while, then decided to join in. We switched back and forth, other people moving in and out of the circle. The club began to fill, the other kids were staring, and I'm going to be honest, I didn't care that people were looking at me. It's been a while since I felt so uninhibited, but also like I was learning something. (These kids all dance well, but in a style totally different from the standard rap grinding that pervades the Greek college scene.)
By the time a huge black guy was break dancing on the floor and two skinny girls in dresses were making out with each other, we figured our work was done and went home for a smoke. After that I took a cab home, with the other guy I'd been dancing with. He went to his place, I went to mine. But here's the other thing about the night that sticks in my mind, and I feel sort of bad about it: I didn't pay for anything.
Sure, I paid for my own dinner, but after that, drinks, cabs, weed - I didn't chip in. Normally I put in my share of everything because I hate girls who think they're somehow measured by what they get for free. Normally I refuse when people offer to buy me drinks. Maybe I've changed - relaxed about keeping all these accounts - perhaps because after Italy I realized that an offer to pay isn't always some grandiose statement, sometimes it's just a quick gesture and not worth noticing. It's a step for me. Back in freshman year of college I remember I went to a cafe with a friend once and I was so upset when he paid for my coffee. And I'm still torn. On the one hand, I'm glad I protested as much as I did because I do believe in fairness and equality and all that. On the other, I wish I hadn't made us both feel awkward, I wish I'd just said "thanks" and made a note to somehow repay the favor later. It reminds me of a conversation I had with two friends, both other women, about who pays for dinner on a first date. "I always split," said the first. "I don't," said the second. "I look him in the eye and say thank you." (As an interesting side note, the second one had been president of her sorority in college, the first played for years on a nationally ranked softball team.) But being neither a sorority president nor a softball player, I wonder what's the right middle ground.
And then I thought: my sister and I, we never split. One person pays for something, the other pays for something else. And it's because there's an implicit understanding between us that we have some future together in which this will all undoubtedly come out even. And perhaps I can say the same thing of all these people, if I know I'll see them again, if I know I like them. It's okay. It will all come out even.
That said, about last night...so I finally decided, screw this better judgment thing, and I went out with an old high school friend. We met at this place - a bit of a dive - where they served shots in test tubes and daiquiris in glasses the size of crystal balls. I didn't know anyone else there, but by the time we tottered out, we felt friendly enough that it didn't matter. The next stop was a club where another friend was spinning the opening set. The bouncer took my ID. "I'm just telling you this isn't ID in most places," he said, handing it back. "I'm from Dubai," I said, in clipped English, "it's the only ID I have." He just shook his head and I flew down the stairs before he could stop me. There were about ten people there, and so my friend bounced over and told us that it was our job to get the party started. I thought, it's dark, no one cares if things go a little crazy. The fact is, when it comes to dancing, I'm long on enthusiasm but short on training. Most people notice the enthusiasm and don't care about the training - I'm sure this applies to more in life than dancing - so it's never been an issue.
There were six of us. Two, a young couple, spent most of the evening dancing with each other. My friend bopped around the room, trying to get people on their feet. Another girl ran out to use the phone. This left me with one guy I didn't know, but he started pulling these crazy dance moves out of the air. I watched him for a while, then decided to join in. We switched back and forth, other people moving in and out of the circle. The club began to fill, the other kids were staring, and I'm going to be honest, I didn't care that people were looking at me. It's been a while since I felt so uninhibited, but also like I was learning something. (These kids all dance well, but in a style totally different from the standard rap grinding that pervades the Greek college scene.)
By the time a huge black guy was break dancing on the floor and two skinny girls in dresses were making out with each other, we figured our work was done and went home for a smoke. After that I took a cab home, with the other guy I'd been dancing with. He went to his place, I went to mine. But here's the other thing about the night that sticks in my mind, and I feel sort of bad about it: I didn't pay for anything.
Sure, I paid for my own dinner, but after that, drinks, cabs, weed - I didn't chip in. Normally I put in my share of everything because I hate girls who think they're somehow measured by what they get for free. Normally I refuse when people offer to buy me drinks. Maybe I've changed - relaxed about keeping all these accounts - perhaps because after Italy I realized that an offer to pay isn't always some grandiose statement, sometimes it's just a quick gesture and not worth noticing. It's a step for me. Back in freshman year of college I remember I went to a cafe with a friend once and I was so upset when he paid for my coffee. And I'm still torn. On the one hand, I'm glad I protested as much as I did because I do believe in fairness and equality and all that. On the other, I wish I hadn't made us both feel awkward, I wish I'd just said "thanks" and made a note to somehow repay the favor later. It reminds me of a conversation I had with two friends, both other women, about who pays for dinner on a first date. "I always split," said the first. "I don't," said the second. "I look him in the eye and say thank you." (As an interesting side note, the second one had been president of her sorority in college, the first played for years on a nationally ranked softball team.) But being neither a sorority president nor a softball player, I wonder what's the right middle ground.
And then I thought: my sister and I, we never split. One person pays for something, the other pays for something else. And it's because there's an implicit understanding between us that we have some future together in which this will all undoubtedly come out even. And perhaps I can say the same thing of all these people, if I know I'll see them again, if I know I like them. It's okay. It will all come out even.
posted by Anika at 10:41 AM
1 Comments:
::waves a paw in the air:: I read~ although there's rarely much that comes to mind to say in response...
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