Hips Don’t Lie
In my mid-20′s, I was in a club and the most spectacularly built, good-looking guy asked me to dance. We spent all our time together in the club dancing. He asked me out for the next evening. I had dressed for an evening out, but it appeared that he would make dinner for me in his apartment. Sweet, I thought. Within, 30 seconds of him picking me up, it began. The guy, who was a professional dancer, did not have one positive thing to say about women. When he talked to me, he looked in the rearview mirror. I took stock and realized that all of the car mirrors were positioned so that he could see himself. It flooded back. The night before, I overlooked how he watched himself dance the entire evening, how he moved up on me, but watched his own hips. The music in the club was so loud that there was no conversation. He did not look at me once. Not one time. When he HONKED at my front door, I came out and he was checking his hair. The date lasted six minutes. I got out of the car at first stop light. I don’t think he noticed.
