Did you ever spot a cute guy and think to yourself, “That’s the kinda guy I want”.  And you figure “if he likes me, he’ll come talk to me”. Yeah, right. If only it were that easy, then I wouldn’t be writing this blog right now.  There are so many “potentials” we let slip through our fingers because we are scared of taking a chance and seeing what will happen if we as women actually do something.

I was in at a bar recently where they had dancing.  Spanish music came on and I instantly grabbed my friend and we started dancing to bachata (or was it meringue?) I saw this attractive guy dancing alone (that should have raised a red flag in my head right away) and thought, I want to dance with him. Once my friend and I were on the dance floor, these two latin men grab our hands and starting to spin and twirl and dip us–they obviously knew what they were doing.  All the while, instead of focusing on my footwork, I kept thinking back to the cute guy, who, surprisingly, was still dancing alone.  I kept wondering if he was looking at me. So I arched my back, stuck my little bootie out, and swung my hips to the beat. Maybe, my killer dance moves weren’t doing it for him, but needless to say he did not tear me away from my  suavement dance partner. My hips (and feet!) were begging me to take a break, so my friend and I sat down at a near by table.

As I sat, I could still see this guy on the dance floor (gotta give it to this guy, he did have some stamina).  I literally sat there and began psyching myself up to talk to him, or dance with him (he obviously liked to dance). Finally, I grabbed my friend again, and we started dancing, and soon enough we were in front of my cute dancing machine.  Then my friend did what no friend should do, she turned me around and pushed me towards him. He put one arm around my waist, and I held onto his other hand, and just like that we were dancing.  We danced for about a minute.  He spinned me, twirled me and himself oddly enough.  Then he leans in close and asks me where I’m from in the thickest accent that I couldn’t quite place.  I was so disappointed, not because he had an accent, but his English was definitely sub-par.  After I found out that he didn’t speak english and not to mention the sweatiest palms ever, I knew I had to get out of there!  So I pulled the old, “Oh! My friends are leaving, I better go!” line on him, and got the hell off the dance floor.

I spent the rest of the night slightly disappointed, but then I thought to myself, “I took a chance”. Instead of sitting on the sidelines, wondering “What if?” I got out there and found out for myself. Yes, he was not what I expected, but I wouldn’t have known that if I never did something.  So the lesson here is to get up and get out there and live your lives.  You’ll never know how many guys with thick Greek accents, and sweaty palms are waiting to dance with you! You just have to ask!

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