Like it's THE Grody Guy at the Club

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I strut in as if I'm Scott Baio and it was 1987 into Club Miami wearing a black short sleeve button up shirt, black shoes and a pair of coffee stain free khaki pants. I get a smile from a chick who looks like she possibly could be a guy. I nervously smirk back and keep walking towards the bar.

A nice Rumba was playing.....

Un ardiente corazon
Colorea mi pasion
Deseando compartir
El sentir de este vivir

En las olas de este mar
Sueno en la eternidad
Con cada luna vendras
Con la merea te iras

En un caracol
Pienso oir tu voz....

I'm feeling the music swaying back and forth like a palm tree on the beaches of Tahiti as I order a Cran & Vodka from one of the four cute bartenders who were barely wearing any clothing.

I need to come in here more often, I think to myself as I take a sip of the Cran Vodka.

I leave a 4 dollar tip (I'm always a big tipper) and I start heading across the club to were my friends are sitting. I'm sitting down sipping my drink with my friends when a Michael Jackson song comes on.

What dimension of all molesting Catholic Priests did I just step into? Michael Jackson in a Latin Club? Was I in Club Miami or Club Molesta?

One of my friends grabs me and drags me out to the dance floor. So I'm dancing with my friend to Michael Jackson when the Latin club decided to get back to business and put some Salsa on. My friend starts walking back to our table and I quickly scan the dance floor for someone to dance with; mainly looking for someone who has been there for awhile drinking.

As luck would have it, my eyes quickly found an attractive lady to dance with and one who was tall, always a bonus with me on the dance floor. I quickly make my way over to her as I have learned the hard way by the likes of Rico Suave (from a prior post) that I need to make my move quickly or lose out on the cute dance partner.

I quickly check my nose for some hangin "spiders" and I finally get to her and say, "Lets dance!"

She made eye contact with me and her eyes grew to the size of silver dollars where at this point I thought my amazingly handsome Cary Grant features and my Clark Gable smile was going to make her faint, but it had nothing to do with my physical appearance but more of what I said as she replied, "Like Dude, Oh. My. God. I like so can't dance okay?....Like totally I can't."

She didn't have a valley girl accent, but I needed to spruce up this story.

"Like so sorry! I know I'm like so totally non-bodacious!"

Disappointed that she didn't faint from my dashingly good looks I re-assured her, "It's okay, I'll knock the rhythm into you, just follow me."

I go in close to grab her and she starts freaking out, "Like gag me with a spoon - Oh. My. God. I like so can't dance okay! Like barf me out! You should like totally dance with one of my friends who can like totally dance fer sure!"

This is where a Nobel decent and intelligent man would gather up the hints laid before him and come to the conclusion that while it was a gallant effort, she doesn't want to dance with you.

Me being a nonintelligent man and not one to give up..... "Oh come on and just dance with me," I said cheerfully flashing my Clark Gable smile while my teeth sparkled from the spotlight that was moving all over the club.

She gave in to my dazzling charm and my Erik Estrada ears. That or I just wore her down like a 4 year asking the same exact question over and over again until your head is about to explode.

It was obviously my ears.

So not wanting her to freak out more than she has, we are just dancing separate. Every now and then I would come in close to grab her and I would get the same response, "Like! Oh! My! God! I can't like dance!"

After awhile I'm feeling the music and things are going better between us. I'm actually turning her and she isn't freaking out anymore and things are going so well between us that I begin brainstorming for names of our future children.

I let go of her again so now we are dancing separate again and I start doing some footwork by myself and she is just watching me...she smiles at me and everything seems to be going in the direction of us getting married.

Even though I wasn't really spinning her or dancing with her, I was just having fun feeling the music and overall I'm having a good time.

It is at this point that two other chicks show up like crazy jealous lesbians fending off men for the sake of the well being of womanhood.

I scrunch my nose up wondering what is going on when the chick I'm dancing with turns around to the two new chicks and says, "Like I've been searching for you guys like a lost credit card!"

That is when it hit me....it hit me like a ton of bricks....I felt weak, I felt bruised and humiliated...

I felt like Whitney Houston after an argument with Bobby Brown.

I was THAT guy on the dance floor where the girlfriends had to come and rescue one of their own from THE weird guy that won't leave their friend alone.

LIKE.

OH.

MY.

GAWD.

I'm THAT weirdo guy in the club that needed rescuing from....

I put my head down and apologize to Valley Girl as I pathetically walk away from the dance floor knowing there are people staring and laughing at me as I normally would be doing at THE weirdo guy.

Being 6'3 in a Latin club made things even more difficult for myself because I couldn't even hide as I stood out like a white man on a basketball court.

I spent the rest of the night hearing far off giggles directed at me.