As Beth has told me, I am a great dancer—but I’ve always been a solo dancer—off on the edges doing my own thing, making sure I have the space necessary to “cut a rug” as only I can. Dancing with Jonas I almost feel like a professional. Perhaps this is an exaggeration of sorts, but he is whipping me around the dance floor like I am Ginger Rodgers and he is Fred Astaire. He makes it easy for me to follow him and I never once step on his feet, clobber him in the head with a flying elbow, or knock him off the dance floor with a hip. We are in sync and my heart is pounding. I am sweating, but goosebumps stand at attention on my arms. I am now praising the fool who is the blame for my bare-whetted tush. Every part of me that Jonas brushes against—arm, neck, leg, hand—is alive and throbbing with anticipation of the next contact.
I spend the rest of that evening dancing with Jonas, and eventually exchanging kisses on the dance floor. I forget that anyone else is around us, my focus becomes all about his lips and when mine can brush his again. He tastes like whiskey and the musk of his skin is intoxicating. I can’t recall a single time in my life where my mind has totally shut down and my reactions and interactions are automatic impulses based on intense mutual attraction. I also can’t recall ever being so instantly—or passionately attracted to a man, especially one that I know absolutely nothing about.
At some point in the night Delilah grabs me and pulls me away from Jonas and thrusts her phone at him.
“Hey, why don’t you give Mindy your phone number and she can give you a call sometime,” she says while winking at me.
The thought I’m getting a random guy’s phone number runs through my head, but is drowned out by hallelujahs aimed towards Delilah. I love meeting and talking to people, but the whole “pickin’ up on the fellas” is not particularly natural or easy for me to do. Every single man that I have met, dated, had a relationship with, or (gulp) married were men that I knew through my immediate environment or through friends.
Jonas leaves, his phone number safely stored in Delilah’s phone, and with new confidence I move on to my next victim. I am not precisely sure why I find a new fella to dance with and canoodle. I feel confident, sexy, and powerful. I feel like I am a desired woman worth of some male attention. This is new and a little bit dangerous as I kiss guy number two of the evening and Delilah steps in once again to save the digits.
On the car ride home, Delilah pulls out her phone and recites to me what to text to Jonas … guy number two gets quickly and quietly deleted. Sorry sloppy seconds.
“Nice to meet you tonight Jonas. Now you have my number. Call me and we’ll go out.”
Not even a minute later I am on the phone with Jonas and he is arranging to meet me the next night for Indian food in downtown.
Seems like I have made an impression. Yup, I’ve got mad dancing skills.
