Almost a Fight

Another weekend has arrived. Weeks just seem to fly by these days. I'm not exactly sure why this should seem so. Perhaps it is because I have been writing with quite a bit of frequency, blogging actually. I could say more about this growing obsession, but it is not the only obsession I have lately. My weekend outings have become an obsession also. Now that I have an assistant of sorts doing camera work at the Canopy Club I'm able to get away much more often for a weekend of dancing. It now seems obligatory to go every Friday and Saturday.

I enjoy dancing, but job-one these days is really to find a girlfriend. The last four years has been a dessert in this area. I meet lots of women, I dance with lots of women, and over the course of the last four years I've dated lots of women, two or three of whom which I was in long platonic dead end relationships with that should have ended a lot sooner. Not because they were platonic but because they prevented me from finding someone who really wanted to be with me, and because they were just using me to various degrees, holding me at bay with an odd balance of flirtation, neediness, and disingenuous statements about their relationship seeking status. Ok, let's be blunt and honest about this: they claimed to be celibate and said they were considering me for a relationship, but were seeing others behind my back, while plying me for favors and gifts. Maybe I'm just a sucker for a pretty face, because even used as I was, I still can't help looking back and wonder might have been if one of these ladies had wanted to be in a real relationship with me. Could I have done things differently to makes things play out differently? It's all well and good to say if a person is going to treat you a certain way, then you shouldn't have been with them in the first place. I would like to believe that if someone truly lets you in, that you may have a positive effect on each other, making you both better people. Call it an idealistic fantasy to rationalize spending so much time and money on the wrong women.

That this should happen repeatedly to me these has to say something about the women I pursue, but I just don't seem to know how to socialize in any other environment other than a dance bar. I have said it before, but I'll repeat it here, I really need to leave this town. I don't think the problem is so much me, as this town. It is not really filled with attractive eligible professional women. Why this should be I'm uncertain. When I spend time in Chicago or Settle or Washington D.C., they seem bursting to the seams with the kind of women I would like to meet. Maybe it's all just grass-is-greener-on-the-other-side syndrome.

Friday Night
Fresh out of the shower and time to go. It's only 9pm, but I have promised to stop by The Canopy Club to check on some video feed connections. I park right in front of the building in a loading zone rather than hunt for a parking space. This close to the University they are often hard to come by. I don't plan on being here long, and while I have had a ticket or two, it's rare this time of night. Sisko and Steve both wave me a friendly greeting as I sidestep the crowd entering for "Jazz Mandolin Project." Things are quite a bit busier than I had expected, and hope there is no crisis that will take much of my time. There is no crisis, someone has managed to move one of our man projectors to the front bar, and get a main video feed to it. I'm slightly impressed. Not because this should be hard, but because it has been done in a timelier fashion than these things usually get done, and put on a freshly built platform professionally hung from the ceiling. I am not impressed long with the quality of the work, as the video both is a total disaster. I know I will have to rewire and reinstall all the equipment soon, but have no were near enough time tonight. I find Chad my video assistant, and show him what I am doing to make a few quick patches so that he can make a reasonable filming tonight. He is not to blame for the sad state of the equipment as far as I know, it mostly has to do with an ill conceived attempt by Jake the sound board guy to clean up the wires for the video area. This is ironic, because in the chaos that has ensued in emergency patches by Chad and Myself to get basic functionality back, the booth is ten times worse in appearance than before Jake tried to help us out. Sigh.

It's now only just about 10pm as I leave, having not been at the Canopy long, but I had expected to get into a little more work than I had. The fact is there is so much to do, I only do as little as was possible before escaping the mess that cabling has now become.

The Xtreme has become my regular haunt these days, my substitute for Main Two which is now a sports bar named "Guido's" and no longer has dancing. For a while my bars of choice were Masonic on Fridays and the Legion on Saturdays, but I save those as last resort these days. I usually have a good time dancing at them, but seem much more likely to run in to a desperate type of woman looking for a meal ticket.

The Xtreme is slow, but its only just past 10pm and I expect things to pickup. I order a Long Island and have a seat with a clear view of the front door so I can check out the women coming in. Thing is, there are no women coming in. The club has all of about ten customers. I nurse my drink and try to enjoy the music, but I am alone, and feel pensive to say the least. 11pm rolls around and things are still slow. 11:15 and it becomes clear to me the Xtreme is a bust tonight. I chat with Dave the owner at the door a little before leaving, make an apology of sorts for abandoning them on such a slow night, but I'm on my mission to find a woman. I drive over to the Masonic, but the parking lot is mostly empty -- very odd for a Friday at the Masonic. I don't bother to stop, and continue driving to the Legion, I figure if the Masonic is slow the Legion must be where the crowd has settled on. The parking lot at the Legion is even emptier. Considering that we are talking about establishments that can be jammed packed on a Thursday, and were on Christmas, I don't get how all three clubs I've visited can be so slow on a Friday. I'm sure one of the three is bound to pick up later in the night, but I figure the night is shot for me and head home. Might as well get a decent night's sleep, and save some money, rather than sit alone in a slow bar nursing a drink.

Saturday Night
My day off has gone quickly and time has come again to try my hand a socializing. After the bust the night before had been, I'm almost inclined to not go, but going out Friday and Saturday has become some self appointed job that needs doing until my labors bear fruit in the form of a girlfriend. Nicole has not called this week despite the amount of time spent together the week before, but she may already be on the way to Atlanta. Ammie has called, but I really want to resist opening that can of worms again. I had said that I perhaps should have given Ammie more of try at being my girlfriend, but her recent whinny calls about money problems, boredom, and unhappiness at work have convinced me I made the right call the first time around. She is pretty, and I don't have a regular woman in my life, my weekend work has become a race to resist temptations with a woman I know is no good for me in the long run.

It's a little after 11pm and club is fairly jumping when I arrive. Jade the hostess gives me a warm greeting. At one time I thought Jade had been interested in me, but I'm not looking at Jade as possible dating material any longer. The week before, I had finally asked for her number, but she turned me down politely. I'm fairly sure she had once wanted to date, and would have given me her number, but I suspect my friend Nicole hitting on her as we left one evening a couple of weeks ago had something to do with her changing her mind (yes Nicole swings both ways). Then again, maybe it's just because she sees me hitting on so many other women. I would not have entertained the idea of making a play for her if she had not made a big deal about letting me in for free a few times, and letting me know out the blue that she is divorced. Perhaps she has met someone new in the intervening week or two. Maybe she flirts with many of male patrons just to flirt, or to encourage return patronage. Maybe all of the above. I most likely will never know. One more word about the free admission policy, Jade had informed the doormen I was to get free admission and not have to wait in line in general. I didn't bother to try and collect on the favor she had offered the week after. She hadn't been at the door anyway, and I hadn't wanted to play it off like I was a big shot. I had Nicole on my arm, and just paid the admission. The next week Jade charged me admission, with a small apologetic gesture while not explaining the change. It may have had nothing to do with Nicole, maybe Dave, one of the owners, has laid down the law. Maybe things are tight money wise with the recent admission policy changes.

I hadn't hurried out after the previous night's slowness, but now I wish I'd gotten out maybe a half-hour earlier. Not so much because I have missed any excitement, but because I like to observe the crowd coming in so as to better focus my attentions on whom I may want to meet. Maybe this sounds a little too calculating, but I don't like muscling in on people that have already formed into groups or pairs. It seems rude. Much better to say hello early and offer the promise of a drink whenever they are in the mood to take me up on the offer. I wouldn't say I have a line, but I certainly have a practiced style -- good for meeting women, not so good for keeping women.

I make my usual sizing up pace round about the club and dance floor. "The Calmer prowl" (call-mer, as in my last name) is what they use to call it at the skating rink I used to work at years ago. My discrete stalking leads me to a group of four pretty women in a group, a couple of whom look familiar, but I'm not sure. They all look young, but must be over 21, as the club has changed its entry limit age to 21 about two weeks ago. This had the immediate effect of diminishing the crowd size, but I actually prefer a club that's not too crowded. It also makes me feel easier by not having to worry quite so much about how young a woman might be when I ask her to dance. A dance is only a dance, but wise or not, despite the fact that I do like to dance, my primary motivation in going out these days is to find a possible girlfriend candidate. 18, 19, and 20 year olds are just too young to waste my attentions on, despite the one crazed 20 year old in Danville that seems to think I'm the man she wants. Did I mention I'm trying to resist temptation?

I'm inclined to approach the prettiest, she has a certain elegance and pose. She also has sexy legs that show off well in the mid thigh length skirt she's wearing. I hesitate to approach however, it isn't that I'm shy, but she looks young, and if I've hit on her friends in the past, it seems likely I'll come off as some kind of desperate lonely barfly. I'm not sure that would be far from the truth. One of her friends makes for the bar and after a short pause she makes for the bar too. What the hell I think to myself, easier to offer a woman a drink if she's already close the bar.

I offer to buy her a drink, but she declines politely, but seems more than amenable to talk and says she will take me up on the offer a drink later. She'd only followed her friend to the bar to assist her friend, not because she was in need of a drink at the moment. Her name is Jameala, a speech communication major at the U of I. We have an animated discussion that perks me a bit. I don't expect much to come from meeting Jameala, but it makes me feel less awkward and out of place to have a pretty girl pay attention to me, if only for a short chat while her friend is rounding up drinks.

Tawanda and some female friend of hers that I haven't met before show up. This is the Tawanda that is a student at U of I, not to be confused with another Tawanda who dips into and out of my life from time to time. I don't have this Tawanda's phone number, and while I don't remember asking for it, I pretty sure I must have asked and been rebuffed politely. It has a dull echo of something done. Then again I ask a lot of woman for their numbers - I lose track.

Other than Jameala, I haven't talked to anyone else yet this evening, nor asked anyone to dance. I look around and don't see anyone new I want to meet so head towards Tawanda and her friend. I think Tawanda was just been being polite in dancing with me the first time I met her, and don't really expect much attention tonight. Then again, nothing ventured nothing gained. My rule about only being on the look out for possible girlfriends goes out the window with Tawanda. It's still an ego boost to dance with a pretty girl. And while Tawanda my not be interested in me as a suitor, she displays a lot of class and consideration for my feelings when others try to cut in between us.

To my amazement both Tawanda and her friend, who I learn is named Neesha, seem glad to see me, and when I offer a drink there is no hesitation by either in accepting. The three of us head towards the bar, while I remind Tawanda that she hadn't seemed to like the first drink I got her the first time we met. She assures me it is only because it was so strong. She now seems to have a well-practiced confidence in ordering something she'll like. Quite a change for only two weeks, but I have to allow for my first impression being wrong. I ask in what seems to be not too awkward a fashion, whether Tawanda will be dancing tonight, at which point the girls ask if I would enjoy with both of them. The banter has a certain Penthouse Letters tone to it, but I don't expect the ending will be worth sending off to Bob Guccione.

With drinks in hand we make it back to the dance floor, and it isn't long before Tawanda indicates she's in a mood to dance. We dance about one song and Neesha joins us. I've danced with two women before, but this is a little different. Usually when you dance with two women it is with a crush of mutual passion, a sort of abandonment of inhibitions. Tawanda, Neesha and myself are dancing close, but for the most part not touching. I am finding it hard to figure out whom to concentrate my attentions on, and I can't be sure but I almost think it is a competition between Tawanda and Neesha for my attentions. I don't think either girl sees me as anything more than someone to dance with, but I can't quite figure out the underlining vibe of what is going on.

I notice we are drawing the looks of a few guys on the side of the dance floor. Every now and then one of them will walk up to Tawanda or Neesha to whisper something in their ear, only to sulk off a couple of seconds later after the girls shake their heads no. It is easy to see an irritated anger rising in these younger me, perplexed by the older white interloper doing quite well with a couple of the more attractive ladies in the club.

We have been dancing the majority of the night, but the DJ hits a clinker, and we stop for a while. Tawanda suggests I get us so more drinks and I enthusiastically agree. I try to take both ladies' order, but have a little trouble getting it over the noise of the music -- we're right next to the speakers. Neesha volunteers to help me get the drinks, she and Tawanda are both having the same thing. We have to wait at the bar a little bit for our drinks so we begin to talk. I tell her if I remember correctly that I have asked her friend Tawanda out, but have been turned down. She's perceptive enough to ask if this is a lead in to asking her out, and answer "yes if that doesn't make me too much of a dog." She assures me it doesn't and says she would like to go out with almost a little too much enthusiasm. But she informs me, she has some complications in her live currently and it would best if I give her my number, and she will be sure to call.

We finally get our drinks and head back to the dance floor, only to run in to Tawanda coming towards the bar. I apologize for our tardiness, it really is a wait to get drinks. I notice my apology doesn't seem to register, and she has something else on her mind. She exchanges some words with Neesha and they make for the bathroom together. Nothing to do with me I'm sure.

We hook up at the backend of the dance floor a few minutes latter. Neesha asks if I would like to dance and we do. The men I had noticed earlier approach Tawanda. She looks unconcerned, so I let it go. She's not really with me anyway. Tawanda comes out a little latter dance with me, Neesha heads to the sidelines. I'm beginning to feel as though I'm being tag teamed. Now it's Neesha's turn to talk to the knot of men I mentioned. Her body language is far more relaxed than Tawanda's however, and it is clear they are friends of hers in some way.

Tawanda and I stop dancing and head to the sidelines. She seems unhappy about something, and I ask her what about. She assures me it is nothing. I tell her it's not my intention to pry. I worry I might be hovering a bit too much so excuse myself to walk around a bit and giver her some space. There is an attractive woman dancing on the sidelines, and she seems to be giving me a come-over look. She is dancing with or for some younger guy in a wheel chair, but is also stroking and dancing with other men close to her. She is definitely being an exhibitionist. I stand close by acknowledging her gaze, but feel a bit weird about moving in a girl who is in the company of someone in a wheel chair. While she is being a flirt with the other men, it is clear she has fixed her attention on me. I ask a lot of women to dance, but it is rare to see the evident interest so clearly before I ask. Finally I do ask, after the man in the wheel chair seems to give some kind of go-for-it hand gesture from where he is seated. It seems a bit odd, that two different men I don't know have encouraged me to ask women to dance tonight. But its not all that odd, in fact now that I think about it, this is advice I've gotten often from men I don't know or have barely met while standing on the sidelines checking out the crowd. I think this probably happened more often to me than others, but I'll save the speculation for that for another time. I rarely need the encouragement anyway. She agrees quickly when I ask and presses in close to dance in a much more intimate fashion than Tawanda and Neesha had been. After a dance or two I offer her a drink, she wants "An Incredible Hulk" whatever the hell that is, something green I've no doubt. I get her a drink and ask for her phone number as I hand it to her. She thanks me for the drink, but informs me she is from Chicago and only visiting friends. I think to press her for the number anyway, Chicago being only a two-hour drive, but think better of it. I've had my dance, and she doesn't seem like the kind of person into serious relationships anyway.

I'm alone at the edge of the dance floor when Jade comes by. I don't know whether she's on company business or just on the way to the restroom, but as she walks by she coos "How you doing Larry?" She reaches up and briefly strokes the nap of my neck pushing her fingers deep into my hair. Then is quickly gone. There seem to be enough women to flirt with me, but I expect to be leaving alone at the end of the night. How I can so consistently attract the attentions of women at a dance club, but not have a girlfriend is amazing to me. I don't think the two are mutually exclusive, but there's some connection I haven't quite figured out. Maybe I'm just spoiled by having had a girlfriend whenever I wanted the majority of my life -- I certainly don't have a girlfriend whenever I want now.

I make my way back to Tawanda and Neesha. The knot of men I mentioned earlier is close by. One of them, one who I'm pretty sure had been saying disparaging things about me earlier, is motioning that I should ask the girls to dance. It seems an odd turn around, and one I'm suspicious of. He comes over and asks why I don't ask the girls to dance. I explain I have been dancing with them, and if they want to dance I'm pretty sure I'll know. He makes some remarks that I can't quite hear all of over the music that I got be a man and step up, let the girls know who's in charge. It seems odd advice since his own advances haven't landed him many dances this evening. He has a sort of main stream young urban good looks going for him, so it seems odd to me also that I should be the belle of the ball instead of he.

One of his friends (and this is just an assumption) is pressing in close to Tawanda, and placing his arm over her shoulder. She is shying away from him a bit, and lifting his arm off her shoulder, but not really fighting him off. She seems uncomfortable under his attentions, but I also see she could be pushing him away more forcefully if she chose. I come to stand close by, ready to interject should things get out of hand. Tawanda sees me, and seems to glance my way with an apologetic look on her face a couple of times. The man, a bit larger than me, dressed in some kind of yellow sports jersey is obviously trying to be persuasive and charming, but in a bit overly and unwanted way. At some point he leans in very close and Tawanda is ducking down and pushing his hands away. Enough I finally figure, and lean in slightly to tap him on his shoulder to get his attention. He looks at me and I put my arm between him and Tawanda. "I think the lady would like a little space," I say. I know I have his full attention.

"Who are you?" he demands.

"Just a friend." I answer firmly, but not belligerently, and continue with "I can't really hear what's going on and just wanted to check that the lady is OK"

"You touched, me. Who gave you permission to touch me?"

The irony of this question strikes me immediately, as I only barely tapped his shoulder to get his attention, not wrapped my arm uninvited around his neck as he was trying to do with Tawanda. "Just trying to get your attention, not trying to disrespect you," I say.

"What business of this is yours?"

"Like I said, just checking on my friend," I reply.

His replies have a certain bully-cliché sound to them, which stiffens my nerve that I'm doing the right thing. I'm not so much concerned about whether some guy would take a swing at me in a bar. Only that I be completely and unarguably in the right. I almost wish he'd haul off and take a poke at me. I just wonder what it would feel like. I've never hesitated to break up fights at the other bars I've worked at. It was always simpler to do than I would have expected. I don't think it is because I'm so imposing, but most people are reluctant to continue a fight when someone is prying them apart, probably glad for the face saving excuse to have the fight end and still appear to have been man enough to be in one. This of course would not be me trying to stop a fight but finish one if it happened. I also figure if you're gonna get in a fight it might as well be in a bar where people are likely to step in before either one of you really get hurt. I'm not so sure my courage would be so evident if we were alone in an alley.

I step in close so that we are practically nose to nose, so has to make it clear that while my words are conciliatory, I'm not backing down to let him have his way with Tawanda.

"It doesn't matter if you're some kind of cop or not, this isn't any of your business," he says.

The cop comment takes me a little off guard, coming out of the blue as it does, it's an accusation I get quite a lot in the clubs I frequent. I'm not sure how to play it. I usually deny being a cop, which I'm not, but that never convinces anyone I'm not a cop. To most suspicious minds if you deny being a cop, this proves you're a cop. There's no winning this one. I can only assume these accusations come from people who would have good reason not to like cops.

"It doesn't matter what I am, I'm just making sure my friend is OK," I think I stammer a little, but the music is loud and my body posture is firm.

Tawanda motions to me. "It's OK," she says apologetically. She motions for the jersey-wearing guy to calm down as well.

I'm confused whether I'm being a bore or not, but the guy in the yellow jersey turns away. I hadn't been scared of the looming confrontation, but now that he has turned away, I feel my legs begin to shake, and have to concentrate to keep the quaking from becoming apparent to those around me. Was I scared and hadn't realized it? I hope it is just the rush of adrenaline now taking it toll, now that the cause for the rush has gone away. I remember once almost being struck by a car, and having the same leg shaking experience afterward.

I apologize to Tawanda for if I was interfering where not wanted. She accepts my apology but explains she can handle the situation and doesn't want there to be any trouble. She seems visibly torn over the situation, and I am slowly realizing she and Neesha have some complex relationship with the knot of men that had been giving me the evil eye earlier.

Neesha is now dancing with the guys I thought had been looking my way belligerently earlier. Tawanda is talking to the man in the yellow jersey again. I decide its time for me to go. Not because I'm intimidated, but because I have played my roll as the knight in shining armor, and the ladies have chosen to keep company with the dragons. Maybe they are just trying to protect me. I'm sure both Tawanda and Neesha like me, but have strong social connections with the group of younger men.

It's getting late. I think about leaving but make one more trek around the club before leaving. A young girl comes up to me to give me a toast. She toasts some other males next to her as well. It seems clear she's mistaken for being among a group of people she has recently met.

"I'm not with your fiends, but thanks for toast," I tell her.

"Oh sorry," she says, looking around with a little lost look.

"But I wouldn't mind buying you a drink or having a dance," I say hastily before she goes off to find the group she came with.

"That would be nice," she says, and I realize she has an accent I can't quite place.

"What would you like?"

She looks puzzled for a second and answers "A beer."

"Any particular kind?"

She shrugs with an I-don't-know gesture. I begin to realize she's struggling with the language especially over the loud music. She probably isn't familiar with American beer selections.

"A beer it is," I say and off the bar I go. I return quickly, and she accepts the bottle with a grateful nod. We begin chatting and I find she is from Peru, she gives me her name as well but it doesn't stick, I'm not quite sure I hear it correctly over the loud music anyway -- it seems to end an "ah" sound. I don't ask her to repeat it since basic conversation is a little hard to start with over the language barrier and loud music.

We don't chat long and R. Kelly's Steppin' in the Name of Love comes on. I ask her if she knows how to step. She shakes her head no. I explain it's a simple side to side step and show her a little example. She shakes her head no again with a little laugh. I myself know Steppin' is both easy and hard. A simple step once acquired, but requires an almost syncopated timing that can be tricky to catch on to.

"You can just do dance however you like, it doesn't matter," I say persuasively, she nods agreement with a smile.

We begin to dance, and I find I'm steppin' in good form, far better than when I dance with Nicole, who is a much better stepper than I. Without having to concentrate on matching someone's moves like Nicole's while steppin' it's much easier for me to just follow the music and improvise. The Peruvian girl I'm dancing with is dancing OK, but definitely not steppin'. Sometimes it's nice to be the better dancer. On average most women are better dancers than men are - especially the good-looking ones.

We dance to a few more songs, and suddenly the music is over. We make our goodbyes and I give "?-ah" my card, telling her to call me if she would like to go out for dinner sometime. It seems unlikely she will call, as she quickly enters into animated discussions in her native tongue with her group of friends who are reforming now that the night is over, about three women and five men. Still I can hope. I'm sure she would come with far fewer complications than the American women I've been dating or trying to date lately would. It seems likely Neesha will call me later, but I'm unsure that will be a good thing. Tawanda would be my first choice to date and get to know better, if I had the choice. I suspect Jade would be the best bet for making a relationship work, I think she respects me on some level as being both a person with a professional career, but handling myself in a club as well, plus being in the same business to a degree. These are just idle speculations on my part, more fantasy than real observation.

I still have part of a Long Island Ice Tea as I head for the door. This one plus one I hadn't gotten to finish earlier because someone had cleared it away before I was done with it make for only about one and a half drinks over the course of 3 hours. But Long Islands are strong, and I realize I have a little more of a buzz than I should have. I'm tempted to down the remainder, it had been flavorful, but think better of it. I rarely drink more than two or three beers when out, or the occasional Long Island. I find it a little disturbing that just an half a Long Island more is enough to get me so close to my safe limit (if not beyond). I'm certain I'm one of the more responsible patrons the Xtreme has, I shudder to think how many people are driving home juiced up two or three more times than I am.

Another weekend come and gone. At least this one had been different -- I'd almost been in a fight.