The odds were stacked against me, but I went dancing on Friday.
HELLZ YEAH.
I had been craving it for a couple of days, just a night to let loose. To bust out some obscene dance moves and get really sweaty and to sing along with T-pain as loudly as possible. In summary, embarrass myself and others with me.
I got the text about my girls going out when I was at work already and I had of course chose that day to wear a baseball t-shirt to work. Literally a baseball t-shirt…on a Friday, I know amateur status over here.
So my dearest friend stops by my house to pick up some “clubbing shirts.” Now that is friendship.
Everything at work decides to swing into madness about an hour before I’m off work. Supposed to be off at 11:00pm and instead I start the paperwork at 11:03pm to document the said madness. I was in the parking lot of my work at 11:30pm sitting in my car, drained and tired, knowing I had to drive twenty minutes out still to get to the bar. I sat there debating for about thirty seconds when suddenly I just said out loud…
“FUCK IT.”
Keys are in the ignition and I’m speeding through the intersection. Make it to the bar around 11:45pm, show my id, see my friends on the dance floor, and immediately am grateful that I started driving. I think T-pain was on when I walked in. Fate guys.
Ten minutes later I’m in my club shirt ordering a drink.
Four minutes later me with said drink, in said club shirt, are out on the dance floor grinding on everyone I know.
I honestly didn’t want to be anywhere near a guy. I just wanted to get down with all my main girls and them watch them try to drunkenly flirt with guys who are spilling beer all over themselves trying to flirt back. Lets get messy, because life is too short to pretend that were classy.
The entire evening was beautiful, or my version of beautiful anyway. One of my friends found a cardboard cut out of a girl holding beers I think, and that poor piece of cardboard just got violated in every possible way. Not to mention a metal bar that held up the speakers that I basically used as my own personal stripper pole.
Walked out of that bar before 2am, covered in sweat, smelling like cigarettes and smiled the whole way home.
Still dancing as I brushed my teeth. Thanks Friday, I needed that.
becauseimstillsingle 