Dancing Queen

Been a while since I was here... although I've been happily reading everyone else's blogs, just haven't felt compelled to share anything of my own.

The last week or so was mostly about the Legg Mason, which while an entertaining (and hot) way to spend a week, does not give good blog. So therefore my silence.

Saturday night however, I went out with some friends, including one who had just returned from the Middle East (undisclosed location). He wanted to go out on the town, so out we went. Started the evening at Cafe Citron...

Several beers and a couple of shots later, I was definitely feeling the bass line of the combination salsa/reggae/hiphop being played. I was not feeling the random guy trying to play bongos along to the music. Despite telling my friends at least 1o times that I was going to go one up him, I did not. I do think I need a bongo for a gift soon though.

At any rate, 3 of us ended up leaving Citron to go to Rumors. I guess Returning Friend thought there would be more cute girls there. Once we got to Rumor's we watched the dance floor for a bit, but I couldn't help myself. I started dancing...

Now, by no means do I consider myself a good dancer. I've been complimented by girls before who seemed surprised that I have rythym, and in college I did hit up a club or three, but its probably not something you'd jump to as a conclusion when you meet me. Nonetheless, there's just something about good music, whether its live on stage, or quality DJing, that makes me have to move to the beat.

When I dance, obviously its nicer to have a partner, but I really don't require one. In fact, after about 45 minutes, I got a text from my two friends, informing me that they were leaving. I responded "I am good."

And I was... I had no partner to dance with, no cute girls to flirt with. It just felt good to dance, no matter how stupid I may have looked or whatever. I don't know why I don't try and do that more often...

Screw appearances, do what feels good.