Today was my uncle’s highly anticipated (by us who haven’t done anything all summer) wedding party. It was in a very nice garden, and I was wearing a very nice suit. I quite rocked it #hashtagblessed .
After dinner the music started getting louder and more upbeat. Everyone was leaving their seats. At last, Fancy started playing and I gave in, threw aside my blazer and stepped onto the dance floor.
It was my first time being on any kind of dance floor. Not that I don’t like dancing; it’s actually one of my favorite things in the world, and I dance all the time, I just do it in my room by myself.
Today, however, I looked around at all the other guys and they were just goofing it, like they didn’t know what the heck they were doing but they just did it with such ease and confidence that no one questioned it.
So I started thumping my feet to the rythm, clapping my hands to the beat, just moving from side to side as if I was only listening to Charli XCX singing about trashing hotels and going from L.A. to Tokyo on my speakers at home.
And sure enough, nobody took notice, and I started really enjoying myself. I had done it! It wasn’t really that hard. At least with non-arabic songs (those are just too confusing to dance to), but I’m fine with that for now.
Now, when I say in the post title that I ‘hate myself’, it’s really just exaggeration. I’m on okay terms with myself actually.
See, there was this nice girl, and she was dancing close to me. She was looking as though she’d like a partner to dance, and I was thinking hey, why not me? But in the meantime I was also giving myself loads of reasons for ‘why not me’. 1- I just started dancing for the first time like an hour ago. 2- I’m still not great at it and I’m basically repeating the same ‘move’ if you call it that. 3- I had never done this before. I had never ‘hit’ on a girl, let alone ask her to dance!
Slowly, though, I also started convincing myself that I should just go in, everything has a first time, and the worst that could happen is that she gets bored after a minute or so and I’ll have to just pretend I heard someone calling (not that hard with all the loud banging music).
Unfortunately, I didn’t act quick enough, and my ‘friend’ (well actually just my friend, I just wanted to use the ” because they make it sound shady) swooped in on her and they danced for the rest of the night. He did have a lot more experience than me though (with girls, not dancing – he was dreadful. But still confident. I guess that’s what girls want), so that was fine, and I just continued dancing feeling slightly disappointed in myself but overall pleased that I was still giving the impression of not caring.
Overall, I had a really fun night. I met nice new people, ate some great deserts, drank nice champagne, learned to dance in public, and looked great doing it (that is of course relatively to how I look usually). I’m not going to let this tiny failure at a feeble attempt – if you can even call it that – make me feel less than great. I guess I learned from my experience what to do if something similar happens another time.
To cap it off, here are some pictures from the wedding: