Dance With Me

Contributed by Cynthia Lugo on 02/03/09

“I thought there’d be more guys here. I mean, isn’t that what Ladies’ Night is all about? Bait for boys? I don’t care, I guess. Cheap drinks! Woo!”

“That’s why I asked you to come with. These gals from work. Pfft. I mean, maybe we’ll find something to say to each other once we get a few pints in us, but more like it’ll still just be the Sampson account and what really happened to the spreadsheet Matt needed for his Powerpoint and blah blah blah who gives a shit really. You are social lubrication, my friend, just as much as this beer. Go on. Lubricate!”

“Oh look! Boys! Well, no, not my sort of boys either, but now I can have some wee small smidge of hope that more will arrive soon. Where goes one dangling penis, another cannot help but follow. Wait. That doesn’t sound right at all. Anyway, what’s the use in going out and getting smashed if I don’t wind up with a few new regrets? Oh, yes please. By which I mean: Oh. And Yes. And Please.”

“Don’t you worry, girl. I can hold my liquor. And beer. Oh, whatever. Don’t be a beer snob. It’s all fermented hops and barley and whatever else, and it’s piss yellow and served in a tall cold glass with a bit of a head. Ergo? Beer.”

“They pay me; I show up. If they paid me to stay home that’d be one better. Where did they go, those unsuitable boys? I’ve almost had enough to drink to relabel them semi-suitable.”

“Whoops! Apparently I shouldn’t say that sort of thing even when Sarah has three pints in her. Oooh, I wonder if there’ll be a formal reprimand and a meeting with the Perfume Brigade tomorrow. God. I gag at the thought.”

“I don’t know what they use, but they douse themselves in it, so they must purchase it by the gallon. By the keg. By the friggin’ vat. Jesus. Some days it gets into my lungs as soon as I step off the elevator, and I feel like I’m exhaling Eau de Unwashed Femme for the rest of the day. Oof. Let us never speak of it again. Another? Oh yes. Yes yes yes. Thanks.”

“Why hasn’t anyone put anything on that jukebox? We should dance. We should play some music because I want to dance. What do you mean, ‘not one of my best ideas’? It’s Thursday night. I am youngish and reasonably beautiful, and this pub has hired me, by dint of its Ladies’ Night drink prices, to act as bait for unsuitable boys. I should dance. Definitely. Absolutely. Oh yes.”

“Wait, what did Mary Alice say to you? What could you possibly have to talk about for so long? And whatever happened to those deliciously unsuitable boys? Kelly? Kel? Oh! My song is starting. Dance with me. Be beautiful bait for deliciously unsuitable boys. Did you ever think for one second you’d end up with this sort of life? But here it is and it’s all we get, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Come dance with me.”