Winner!

Whoop, whoop!

I would like to start off by sharing my exciting news of winning the opening match yesterday, as a team, and individually!  I mean, not to brag or anything, but I’m kind of good at what I do.  Tennis is one passion I have and love, and I excel at it.  I’m the best on the team and play the number 1 singles and doubles spots.

Now on to Friday night.  I’m sure you’re all wondering why my non-single friends were willing to go out on Valentine’s Day.  Maddie is all anti-commercial holidays, and Elena’s boyfriend had to work.  After my match, which my lovely roommates came and supported me at, we all went home and got ready.  I’m the only one who needed to shower, clearly, but we all needed to do our hair, make-up and get dressed.  By the time we were all done and ready to go, it was 10:40 p.m.  And we all looked so dang sexy! Tight, mini dresses and stilettos for everyone!  Our first stop (which ended up being our only stop) was at a popular dance club/lounge downtown.  Even though we’re young, we all have more mature alcohol tastes.  Jagger bombs and Jack and Cokes?  No way.  It makes me gag thinking about, actually.  We all ordered different variations of martinis.  I mean, we still are 21, though, so we had a couple rounds of shots, but more girlie shots than anything.  

I want to take this moment to point out that I am FULLY aware that I am unable to dance well.  I love it, though.  And I’m sure I look like a fool doing it.  This is my theory:  As the alcohol enters my body, it must exit my body through my toes and fingers, making me flow and grind beautifully across the dance floor.  Or look like a seizing, gyrating, blow up silhouette of one of those used car lot things that wave their hands in the a-air like they just don’t ca-are.  It’s neither here nor there, really, but all that just to say when alcohol hits my blood stream, I must dance.  Luckily for me, my friends like dancing, too.  So we all drank, had a blast, and danced the night away.   

At one point, I noticed that my friends were not around me.  But I was being creepily eyed by a “sideliner.”  You all know who I’m talking about.  The guy that stands on the edge of the dance floor and just stares at the women dancing.  All creeper-like.  It's gross, really, like they're sitting there looking for their next piece of meat to bite into.  So I see him look at me, and he sees me looking at him looking at me, and he gives me a one-sided smile and starts making his way towards me.  I’m in the middle of a crowd, so it’s not like I can just flee quickly.  I start dancing through the crowd and feel drinks splashing down on my feet, and my shoes sticking to the floor.  When I’m in full-on dance zone mode, I don’t notice these things, but when I have a mission, like fleeing for my dancing life, or bolting for the bathroom, I notice every ounce of liquid spilling onto my feet.  The other thing about dancing across a dance floor, is that no one wants to move, or let you through.  It's as if the moment they separate from their dancing group, they lose all life force, or something.  Unfortunately, that gave Sideliner Guy the perfect amount of time to catch me, like I was playing hard to get.  I’m still dancing, and he must have taken that as an invite and pounced, because I feel his snaky hands glide onto my hips, and pull my backside into his pelvis.  I look up and see Sarah walking back into the bar and she meets my look and gives me the “noooooo!” look.  The alcohol had really kicked in by that point, and so while cheesily grinning at her, I see her mouthing something to me, but can’t understand what she is saying.  The room is slightly spinning.  And staying focused on her is not the easiest task at hand.  But then I see someone else next to her, spinning around the room, too.

Happy Valentine's Day!