Date, Rattle and Roll
I have a friend who doesn't yet have her own home internet connection. This leaves her at a serious disadvantage when it comes to online dating. I have tried to convince her of the error of her ways on more than one occasion but have thus far had to admit defeat and with a shrug of my shoulders, try to conceal the relief that there is one less fishette in the competitive cyber sea.
I am not completely without hope for her. She ticks with the natural instincts of a single, childless woman approaching her mid 30s and is starting to come up with the sort of ingenious methods for meeting men which I have employed for a number of years. She appears to be having similar success to me judging by her most recent experience.
Imagine a musty church hall on a midweek evening full of excitable older men and ladies of a certain age in their dancing finery. Add an incredibly overweight middle aged man with interesting facial hair and a head microphone on a stage demonstrating the steps and you’re starting to get the picture that I stumbled upon last night.
We had to line up with a male partner and hold hands, ladies on one side, men on the other. My first partner was shorter than me( She is about 4' 11 in her stockinged feet- Ed.) with an elaborate comb-over, after a few steps and twirls he was replaced by another tiny man with a very thick head of white hair. And so the night went on, we got to hold hands and bump thighs and stroke the shoulders (don’t ask!) of all the men in the room (about 40 men, it’s very popular!) After 20 minutes I asked my then-partner how long the class went on for. Until 10.30! Nearly 3 hours, and then it was over to The Tiger for ‘free’ sandwiches (we paid £6 for the experience)
After the first hour we got to freestyle for half an hour and drink at the bar. Miraculously I was asked to dance by a succession of men all of whom appeared to be very keen to show off their advanced moves. I was whirled and twirled and pulled around the dance floor.
At the end of this they all rowed up again for the next stage of the night, which to our horror involved the man picking up the lady and throwing her a few feet (coronaries and broken ankles all round?) Fortunately the friend who'd dragged me along asked me if I’d had enough and I was only too happy to confirm that I had. We both agreed that I was unlikely to find my future husband at the Wednesday night jive class. Back to the drawing board.
Personally, I don't think it sounds all that bad.
I am not completely without hope for her. She ticks with the natural instincts of a single, childless woman approaching her mid 30s and is starting to come up with the sort of ingenious methods for meeting men which I have employed for a number of years. She appears to be having similar success to me judging by her most recent experience.
Imagine a musty church hall on a midweek evening full of excitable older men and ladies of a certain age in their dancing finery. Add an incredibly overweight middle aged man with interesting facial hair and a head microphone on a stage demonstrating the steps and you’re starting to get the picture that I stumbled upon last night.
We had to line up with a male partner and hold hands, ladies on one side, men on the other. My first partner was shorter than me( She is about 4' 11 in her stockinged feet- Ed.) with an elaborate comb-over, after a few steps and twirls he was replaced by another tiny man with a very thick head of white hair. And so the night went on, we got to hold hands and bump thighs and stroke the shoulders (don’t ask!) of all the men in the room (about 40 men, it’s very popular!) After 20 minutes I asked my then-partner how long the class went on for. Until 10.30! Nearly 3 hours, and then it was over to The Tiger for ‘free’ sandwiches (we paid £6 for the experience)
After the first hour we got to freestyle for half an hour and drink at the bar. Miraculously I was asked to dance by a succession of men all of whom appeared to be very keen to show off their advanced moves. I was whirled and twirled and pulled around the dance floor.
At the end of this they all rowed up again for the next stage of the night, which to our horror involved the man picking up the lady and throwing her a few feet (coronaries and broken ankles all round?) Fortunately the friend who'd dragged me along asked me if I’d had enough and I was only too happy to confirm that I had. We both agreed that I was unlikely to find my future husband at the Wednesday night jive class. Back to the drawing board.
Personally, I don't think it sounds all that bad.
posted by Cherrypie at 5:13 pm
7 Comments:
*Shudders*
I now have a mental image of 'Showaddywaddy - the middle age years' in my head.It also brings a new interpretation to the 'handjive'.
I'm off to stick my head under the cold water tap to wash that image away.
Tell your friend to take up salsa instead.
eeee-ooooh.
singularity revisited?
cherrypie, i am speechless. i don't understand why you are not chased down the sidewalk by various men every day. and if not chased, at least slipped a note with a name and phone no. leading to a free lunch.
all i can say is keep it up, whatever you want "it" to look like. the universe loves you!
Cherry...When did you ever see sex & jiving in the same movie (forget Grease)...that's why I'm sticking to tango! :D
Ha Ha((snort))
Why you decided to go out dancing on 'Bob Hoskins Night' is beyond me.
Cherry Pie, I don't get it. Are there no men in England? I'm with KJ, why are they not tripping over you?
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