The cutest boy in the club wanted to buy me a drink last night. I’m grooving at the bar, happy as happy can be, and there he is, grooving along too. It was such a sweet moment of two people sharing an appreciation for beats. And then he asked me. About the drink. My 16 year old self would have been weak at the knees at this point, planning our future together, hoping for a snog to start it all off. I felt a mixture of things and strangely it wasn’t flattery (because I already knew how awesome I was ha!). The overriding feeling was that I didn’t want to owe him anything - energetically - in a vibrational kinda way. I also knew I could get myself a drink much faster. My practicality and independence shining forth. I’d clocked the queues, which line was being served the quickest so although I said yes, to honour an exchange I suppose, I soon afterwards disappeared, to join a shorter queue and buy my own drink. And the cute boy….he was so preoccupied with friends and chatting to even notice I’d gone anyway. That’s young folk for you - no attention span whatsoever.
One thing I noticed whilst dancing last night were all the stories of the people also dancing. There was one sweet girl, who tried mutiple times to get me to dance in her group and I saw as a mother hen, wanting to help others but also not being fully present with enjoying herself due to all these extra responsibilities she’d assigned herself. I used to be like that too until I realised I’d spent the whole night focused on others rather than actually enjoying my own musical trip.
I saw there wasn’t much of an attention span for the music. There was a lot of chatter, moving about, messing around. And while if that’s what they want then great, I saw the difference between us - I was there to stay focused on the music. I was in communion with the music. And people noticed me because of this. It’s like they couldn’t work me out. On my own, grooving to my own rhythm, not wanting to engage too much, just having a personal adventure. My smiles were so wide. I couldn’t help but smile. I was loving the driving beats and suprisingly ethereal moments.
One boy (they’re so young in nightclubs I can’t quite believe it) came to me and said he could feel how much I loved my own company. I told him the club was my church and the dancefloor my altar. He smiled broadly and said he’d preach my gospel.
Then there was the meeting with the restroom fairy godmother but I’ll leave that for another time.
It’s good to be back.