Visible.
The crying baby is getting her bottle. Maybe I’m making some Christian guy friends after all. I’ll reconcile my last post with some stories...
There was a five dollar prom on a special day at the winter conference. So my roomies and I were thinking, “OK, $5 prom – here’s my five dollars, let me into prom.” Actually, the $5 refers to the highest amount we’re allowed to spend on clothing. So the girls and I go downtown and find six matching dresses, three brown and three green. There was 1 dress that fit each of our different sizes; no more, no less. There could have been all size 13s or 2s, or half and half, or 5 or 10 of them… no, there was one special dress for each of us. The best part – they were $2 or less. It was clearly meant to be.
At the dance, a swing song comes on. Five of the guys were wearing matching orange shirts. One of them was R, a guy I know from ballroom dance club. I thought it would be fun to dance with him, so I sashay up to him and ask, “aren’t you in swing dance club? Why aren’t you dancing?” He says “I don’t really like the music. It’s too fast.” Fair enough. Though I must say, I felt a little rejected. Because that’s what you do when you’re dressed up at a dance and a swing song comes on… you dance.
I had a lovely special day, so I’m not complaining. Most of the guys were really nice to me and it was pretty fun. As for R, we vowed to dance together next time. No real reason to feel invisible.
Soiree is a formal night where the guys demonstrate love by escorting us to a nice place, serving us dinner, and entertaining us with a show and a dance. My soiree dress came from the $5 prom shopping outing with the six girls at the conference. On the hanger, it looked like a mermaid dress [as C called it], something you would wear to a crazy event. When I tried it on, the girls crowded around said really nice things (sighing voices…“wow, she can actually pull it off” and “you look like Malibu Princess Barbie ™”! and “that dress matches you” and “you should wear that to soiree). I liked the color, so I got it.
The dance was especially fun. I was mostly with the girls (I like to mix it up though). The second song they play is a swing song, and my new friend S comes up to me and starts talking right away. I thought it would be fun to dance with him, for some reason. So tell me, what was I thinking during our little conversation? …??? This is what I remember:
S: How come you’re not dancing?
J: (one shoulder shrugging) I don’t know.
Well hello.
S: You should be dancing to this!
J: Um, I’m not really into swing dancing.
We match. His tie matches the accents in my dress.
S: But I thought you liked this kind of dancing…
J: It’s not my favorite. It’s too fast and jittery for me.
My, what lush curly hair you have…
S: Well you should still dance.
J: There’s no real beat.
Oh, he has freckles… subtle freckles.
S: (smiling, blinking) Yes there is…
(he claps out a beat, ACTUALLY CLAPS IT OUT… [clap * clap * clap * clap * clap] )
J: I still don’t get it. I’m not getting into it.
Why isn’t he asking me to dance?
S: (still smiling and blinking… I think he’s also slightly shaking his head at this point)
J: Do you know how to swing dance?
Cause I do. Yep.
S: Well no, but maybe I can learn sometime.
J: Yeah. Maybe.
So… is he going to ask already?
S: Uh huh.
J: Welp. See you later.
Where did the girls go?
(I turn and sashay over to the girls)
OH, and I danced with another guy later… during that same song. And another guy when another swing song came on. I’m sooo smooth!
S didn’t actually ask me to dance with him though, and I’m not saying he was trying to do so. I’m completely used to guys asking. But I still could have grabbed his hands and shown him how it’s done. When he was clapping.
I’m not saying there’s something going on, but it’s more fun to tell the story that way. Well, at least my friends think the romantic slant makes the story funny.
Instead of complaining about being invisible, I should wake up and make friends with the people God places in my life. My overall point in telling these stories: I have no right to feel invisible again.
I’m having a good time. My brain should be fried and I should probably be genuinely stressing out about which direction I’m taking…
This is a good climbing song.
At the moment I see two options: move on or retire a year later. By the time I retire, everyone would be old and probably not have as much energy as me… Retirement should be fun, but there are no guarantees about my health or the state of my loved ones. But I can start making time for another such year.
On the other hand, I know I am having a good time right now. I have everything I need to study, and the option to learn even more. I love the people who live with me. I am never lonely yet I can always maintain my privacy and independence. Here’s a poem about how happy I am...
what a luxurious life
style to never have to
drive or
park or
shop or
prepare or
cook or
clean up or
even clean my own bathroom and pretty much
grow up
for another year.
No joke. I’m mature enough to realize I have the rest of my life for all of that. It will be fun to cook nice meals… but you can’t have everything.
I went on some challenging routes, but I’m still waiting for some pleasant soreness…
There are some very good opportunities in convenient places all around…
I wish things can stay the way they are right now. I realize this experience is temporary.
I am relaxed. People constantly remind me I should worry, but I think I end up putting them at ease.
