I tried to get out swing dancing last Friday, but I was counting on my parents being home in time to watch Guy for me. They were gone before I got back from work and they didn't get home until 11pm. So, Saturday I had even more determination to go out. I am not interested in the BYU swing dances any more on Saturdays. I never get asked to dance there. So, I elected to go out club dancing, which I haven't done in ages and I miss.
My parents assumed that I was going swing dancing since that's all I have been doing lately. As I was getting ready, my father said that he hopes I meet a nice young man there. He said that he and my mom would say a prayer for me that I would.
I would have liked to have a friend to go with, but since I don't have any these days, and certainly not one that would be willing to come dancing with me, I went alone. I went to Area 51 because I have been there before and I had a pretty good idea what to expect. They played Alternative, Techno, Dance and Industrial. I just walked in, put down my purse and stepped on the dance floor, where I remained for the next hour or so until they played a mild rap song which must have been sending subliminal messages in Spanish saying ask the white girl in yellow to dance, because Mexicans started coming out of the woodwork/plywood to ask me to dance.
I was just enjoying dancing with myself and when I turned around I found a gang of three short Mexican guys lined up next to each other watching me dance. I got scared off and danced myself out of their radar gaze. One came up to me with his arm around my shoulders and asked me if I would dance with him. I shook my head and smiled. He acted hurt, but what hurt him worse is when I began dancing close with another guy who asked me to dance.
We danced together for a while. Then he bought me some water and we took a break from dancing for a bit. We danced again until it was time to go. We walked out together and I told him how far I had to go to get to my car, so he offered to give me a ride to my car. We get to his car and we continue making out, mingled with conversation. He had a white shirt on under his button up shirt. I asked if I can take of his buttoned shirt off for him. He let me and I discovered that it was no Hanes or Fruit of the Loom T shirt. It was a garment shirt. I was puzzled to find that he is Mormon because of the way he was dancing with me earlier. I asked him if he was, which at this point I already knew the answer. He asked me if I was too. I laughed and told him I used to be. I found it pretty hysterical and it pretty much put an end to what might have happened because he wanted to know why I don’t go to church any more and he asked me to share what I found about the church. He said I sound like I am just hurt. Yeah, I am hurt. I’m hurt because I found out that I have devoted my life to a church that has been lying to me.
He didn’t get it. He asked me if I would like to go to church with him to the Spanish ward. “Not really.” I said, “It disgusts me.”
He kept telling me that he wants to see me again, but I tried to make it clear that I am not interested in returning to church. It didn’t phase him too much.
He came down the next day, Sunday evening to pick up his car and in hopes that I would be free to see him for a while. I couldn’t leave Guy with my parents again after being gone all day already. The next weekend he came down again on Saturday and Sunday. He just drives into town and calls me on his way and would expect me to be free.
Well Mom and Dad, your prayers were answered. I met a nice Mormon boy after all. Ha! Isn’t it ironic?!