Three of Hearts

Writing

I was going to write because everything on TV is something I've seen before or something I'm not interested in. I slept most of the day, so I'm not tired (although thinking on it; maybe I could sleep).

I wrote something the other night. It was the first chapter of a fake book about a friend's life. I sent it to the friend and to Best Friend. Best Friend said the other day she liked it and was looking forward to the next chapter. Then she said a little bit about where she thought the story was going to go, which was completely different from any idea I had because I was semi-basing it on my friend's real life. Her idea was a good one; it's interesting; it's a device that is often used in storytelling and - done well - it could be very good.

Interestingly enough, my writing skills have a paradox: one the one hand, I can't build a story outline with any subtlety and humanity; on the other hand, I can't really write out the details of a scene unless I have some general idea what it's about (although I haven't tested myself on this). Best Friend's idea is intriguing and suggests that I take on the challenge of writing without any idea of where it's going and try to let the story suggest itself at each place. (I guess my worry is that they will not; that I'll just end up at a turning point and have no idea what's supposed to happen next.) Maybe the challenge part should be to develop the outline without a real plan.

Defenses
I went dancing last night, if you can believe it. ("Last night" meaning Saturday night, of course.) It was a mixed experience. The dance floor was pretty packed, so there wasn't a whole lot of space to move around and dance (which I like to do) and we ended up locating ourselves on the side of the club where all the traffic was: the bathroom was in the back, as well as the supply room; the staff went back and forth to get ice and new cases of beer. Also anyone newly coming into the club and wanting to go to the front seemed to pass through where we were (maybe it was because there was space in our area).

It was a mixed experience because I was the single guy with a group of couples. (Well, to be fair, there was another single man there - that is to say, with us; only he seems the very aloof type who isn't moved or worried by the experience of being alone.)(Now I'm thinking of writing him to ask about it.) I felt very awkward many times when the couples would "couple up" and I would feel like an odd thumb (and a fat, balding one, at that) acting like a fool.

There were groups of only women there but I think I felt they were all younger than I and, of course, I'm not very confident about approaching women; never have been. I see myself as a fool and being the fat, balding, old guy at a club is the epitome of foolishness.

Then, out of nowhere, a woman came over to me and danced with me! With me! I was quite taken aback, I can tell you. (There I go miming the British again.) She said something about my dancing and I said "I'm not as good as him!" indicating a man she had been dancing near, if not with. She said something about how she had seen me 'tearing it up' (not her words) all night and that I was doing just fine.

She danced with me for one song. She said something to me at one point, while pointing up at the disco ball on the ceiling. I assumed she said that it was a shame they weren't using it but she probably saw the confusion in my eyes.

I don't know if the song had ended but she leaned over and when I leaned in she said (shouted): "What's your name?" and as I said it I noticed she had her hand out and and I shook it when she told me hers. Then she said thanks for the dance and went back over to her group.

Here's the real point of this story: I was worrying while dancing with her. Pleased and surprised, but also worried. Worried because I was fretting about motives and outcomes, all having to do with me. Basically they boiled down to "WHAT DOES SHE WANT??"

I suppose the problem was that I couldn't imagine she just wanted to dance with me and if that was true, then what was her "true" aim? What was she trying to get? It wasn't like I was afraid she was a gold digger and wanted my money; it was more like I was afraid she might think of sleeping with me and what a horrible disappointment I would be.

It was truly insane; and it would be laughable if it wasn't so sad. I couldn't even enjoy myself for five minutes without worrying about the consequences and if I was measuring up to something. When she shook my hand and went back to dance with her friends without looking back, I assumed that there had been just enough light at some point for her to see how unattractive I was. Or she had smelled my breath and it had been nasty. Or she had realized I wasn't as fun and engaging as she had thought from across the room.

Probably that last. Probably she sensed my clamping fear and realized I wasn't as fun and open as it seemed when I was a wallflower, dancing on my own.

Aches & Pains Updates
For the past couple of days I've been having this pain on the right side of the middle knuckle of my right hand. I think it came about (sorry, I've been watching Masterpiece Theater) as a result of using some tiny scissors for 30 minutes to an hour the other night. I bought a six pack of Pepsi bottles and I was indulging my OCD and cutting the plastic yoke into tiny, tiny pieces.

Somewhere along the line (or after), I noticed that if I pressed on that certain spot on my middle knuckle, it hurt. I don't know how I first noticed it; whether the scissors handle rested there or whether I flexed my hand or was rubbing out the dents in my flesh from gripping the scissors tightly for so long. It's still slightly there, even days after.