The wedding date wrap-up
Friday I took the Chinatown bus down, arriving in DC early afternoon. Wedding Date promised to meet me at the Metro station with snacks if necessary, but I assured him I was fine in the food department. Finally acquainted and settled in a little later, we took off for dinner at the highly touted restaurant where Wedding Date works since he’s now essentially retired from the Marines.
Once we were seated, Wedding Date launched into an enthusiastic explanation of the menu. As I peered cautiously at the prices, he hastened to assure me dinner was on him since I was “treating him to dinner” the following evening. This gallant consideration for the unemployed even extended to cover charge at the Chevy Chase Ballroom, where we went swing dancing later … after traveling the same strip of street three times before finally — at my insistence — asking strangers for directions (it was in a poorly lit location above a liquor shop).
Once inside, we found a decent-sized, mixed-age crowd and a bluesy, occasionally country-influenced band at the other end providing the music. We had missed the free lesson, so I started trying to re-teach Wedding Date the basic step he’d once learned. The resident dance instructor spotted us, and came to offer a quickie lesson out in the hall with several other newly arrived and equally hapless couples. One guy — among the better-looking, but likely to be the clumsiest, I suspected — dashed back inside to the amusement of all, and came back with a girl in tow, apparently a stranger he’d been flirting with.
They sure hope it leads to sex …
Once we were all coupled off, “girls” on one side, “boys” on the other,** our instructor started in. An unassuming blond man with a chest pelt, wedding ring, and made-for-Sexless conversation, he immediately cast himself in the role of love counselor (he’s apparently a divorce lawyer). The first order of business was making sure we ladies appreciated just how much it meant for our men to be there … although he subsequently implied (based on extended personal anecdote) that the main reason men take up dancing is their inability to get sex otherwise. Wedding Date in whispered aside to Anna: “I can practically see the blog writing itself as he speaks.”
There were many choice lines that spiced up his dance-lesson patter, but sadly I don’t have a very good memory for dialogue — even the trademark witticisms for which Geriatric Gent is known. Wedding Date, whom I suspect remembers such things far better than myself, was initially willing to do a he said-she said guest blog, but has since backed out. You’ll just have to take my word that the love doc was funny. If his spiel didn’t verbatim stick in my noggin, the general spirit of it did. Later in the evening, Wedding Date remarked that he was having fun. “That’s impressive, considering you’re not getting any sex later,” I cracked.***
Another World Series upset?
Ah, but his labors and blushes were not entirely for nought. As the night continued, I realized I was discovering another category in the Blog Reader World Series: not just contest entries, not just matchmaking, not just poetry … but dancing as well. In fact, in light of the remarkably sacrificial quality of Wedding Date’s labors (voluntarily undergoing the possible humiliation and emasculation of the dance floor, with little inducement other than the betterment of his pimp ... uh ... matchmaker), I have to conclude that dancing is actually akin to a double-header, if I’ve got my baseball terms right.
So, ladies and gentleman, I must announce a sudden and unexpected upset in the current Blog Reader World Series standings. After the October contest, Poster Boy and Frasier were locked in a 2-2 dead heat, as you may recall. But since Wedding Date has now won the dance category, 2-0-0, the Blog Reader World Series now stands at a three-way tie: 2-2-2.
Gentlemen, get cracking on your November contest entries.
*I had wanted to do a proper photoblog of the big day, but Wedding Date and Best Friend swear it would spoil all the mystery. back
**Perhaps he listens to the same radio broadcasts my grandparents do. back
***He had previously warned me that face-to-face talk of sex would make him blush. back