Bone Collector.

Last Friday, I went out to a local bar. It’s a nice place and it’s been voted as the number one place to meet doctors in this growing metropolis. One bartender makes a fabulous cosmopolitan and, on Friday nights, such libations are a mere 3 bucks a pop. By the end of the evening, I’ve had a couple. I was working on my first cosmo after coming from another not-so-hip bar where I had to settle for just vodka and cranberry.

I moseyed over to the dance floor to watch the crowd. The cover band was on break, so the dj was playing hip hop. Within minutes, I was beckoned to leave the periphery and join in the debauchery. I danced with one guy who either loses his rhythm as he drinks or who never had any to begin with. We danced facing each other with some distance between us. About halfway through the song, he encouraged me to turn around and I obliged. After all, I’m one for spontaneity and variety. Then, he grabbed my hips and pulled me towards him and it took me a couple of hip shifts to realize that I was not up against another body. I was up against another bone. A boner. To be precise. I could cut him so slack and say that maybe he had a flashlight or some other cylindrical, hard object in his pocket. But if it was in his pocket, it was in a pocket hanging (or rather, standing) in the very center of his jeans. I made the not-so-obvious dance away and turn around so that I was facing him again. Facing him, I could control the distance. I controlled it and the song ended. I left to dance with someone else immediately.

When the cover band came back on stage, I returned to the bar only to be met by my “upstanding” dance partner. He wanted to get my number and to take me out to dinner. I attempted to lead the conversation elsewhere but he seemed to have a one-track mind. (Imagine that?!) So I had to let him down gently… figuratively speaking, of course. I left the bar sans the dancer.

Moral of the story: Men. I understand that sometimes you get excited by beauty. *uhm uhm* Or by anything else. This happens. I recognize that. Still, I do have to point out that “pointing” that out to a woman on the dance floor does not help your chances of peaking her interest. Do not grind all up on a woman that you do not know when your lower extremities are searching for a higher altitude. It is NOT attractive. It’s not flattering that you can get a hard on while standing next to me. Conversation is attractive. Gorgeousness is also a plus. Start with the basics.

Lesson to learn: Don’t lead with your flashlight.