... Life in the
courtship world might be more straightforward. Date 13 was a surprising
evolution of date, or more accurately party night, 12. Unbeknown to myself, my
intoxicated male friend had unfettered access to my phone for a good thirty
minutes. This was now an experiment that would reveal if the judgments made
about men by men were better than my general sober judgment. If indeed,
Beyoncé, "I were a boy for just one day" should I role out of bed and
complete Bumble, HAppn, and Tinder? And would the result of doing so get
me connected with a plethora of super great guys? We shall see.
In amongst
the broad spectrum of shapes, sizes, and ages including in some inappropriately
young ones (how very flattering of my mate considered them a viable option)
that had been very carefully selected on my behalf, there was one who was beaming
a smile in every photo. Even if I didn't fancy him, I could bathe in his
ecstatic aura, which would surely be life extending. He’s a cash back deal,
where when I say cash I mean, minutes of remaining time with a beating heart. And
with any luck maybe I’d feel my heart beating. Fortunately he'd been spared the
line, "CBA to chat, how about sex?" so was unaware of the debauchery
that had led to his discovery. He was really responsive and easy going, and it
wasn't long before there was common ground. He was a swinger (Naughty - Not
like that) or more accurately a swing dancer. We were both no strangers to a
particular class, though sliding doors meant our paths had never crossed.
Coincidentally it was a Monday night, swing night and we agreed to go for a drink
before the class.
Date 13 is
the Daddy-long-legs of the man world. He is from Czech republic, had studied
graphic design and now works in a blood bank. I shall christen him Danny-long-legs,
or Danny for short. He’s little bit sciency, a little bit arty, and if he were
a chocolate bar he'd be the salted caramel crunch of the confectionary world.
We talked about blood groups, how ours were completely opposite, and how the
Chinese had to import blood for the Beijing Olympics. And, time passed like a
whippet on speed. Disclaimer: Don't try that with your neighbour’s dog even
though it’s incredibly tempting.
Opening the
door of the church hall, the class was packed. The warm up complete, I paired
with Danny for the first set of moves. And then the ladies move round one; And
one more; And another one; And one more, twenty seven times until 50 minutes
later I was still not back to Danny. Oh no, there had been a serious error in
my calculations. All I could do was look on from afar with starry eyes (I
wasn’t wearing my contact lenses), mesmerized by his never-ending pins. I only
just made it back to him for the very last instruction!
All was not
lost, the next 15 minutes were free dance, and then there was the intermediate
hour. He's really good, and despite his towering physique compared to my
distinctly average frame, a match one would imagine would be hard to synchronize,
it really worked. Danny your number is definitely staying in my phone, if only
for your jockey, swingout and Lindy turn. Intermediate attendance is a
sprinkling of that of the earlier class, and there are many more opportunities
to legitimately invade the personal space of the gentle giant. I could see
myself becoming a regular space invader. Maybe it's time to pickle my onions
and sell me for 20p.
We made the
best of the free dance time after the class and had a very respectful farewell.
In conclusion he’s lovely and maybe there’s some magic. When I move back to
town Danny, I hope to be quite literally in touch. "It don't mean a thing
if it ain't got that swing", and I’ll be checking out his Texas Tommy. On
the topic of choices and since, I cannot foresee a time where one day gender
reassignment is available on the NHS, I can highly recommend letting your mates
of the opposite sex have a good swipe.
