Just dance
About 4 weekends ago, I went to a kind of formal for an engineering school called Polytechnique. We were with some of the graduates were celebrating their diploma( they are just now getting them even though they finished last spring). I actually teach one class there but thankfully didn’t notice any of my students. They transformed an engineering school into a nightclub. Hundreds of people showed up, there were makeshift bars with people dressed as astronauts serving cocktails, several DJs with a wide selection of pop, rock, French 80s, a karaoke room, one of those light up dance floors, etc. Basically it was right up my alley.

As a result of all my enthousiastic dancing with one smitten character, this excerpt of a message was sent to me a few days later and seems to sum up a lot of things: “Dancing with you, it’s magic. I don’t speak very good english…” As I have said before, dancing in France is never just a dance. The French truly wear their hearts on their sleeves and they fall in love at first sight, or at least they seem to want to, and often believe they do. I had to write a message today, several days late, saying that I want to be friends, but nothing more. I can just imagine him reading and weeping. I feel bad about it but after this past weekend I really had to do it.

With the same theme in mind, another Saturday night took an unexpected turn to the dance floor after a somewhat horrible period of time. It had a been really fun evening drinking with a hefty group of fun-loving Brits, but there was one newly introduced girl who was already showing her true colors to us, though we hadn’t picked up on it yet. She really loves her horse. She spent a long time talking about it to me, and all I could offer as a response was that horses really scare me. That’s when she admitted to being hospitalized several times by her horse, and that she loves it so much she just can’t ever stop riding. This is when I should have realized she might be slightly brain damaged or at least that she’s prone to self-inflicted, destructive behavior. I wondered how many horse calenders she’d gotten over the years.

Right before we left for the bar, she encouraged a round of tequila shots, which were mostly drunk by the girl, 5 if I remember correctly. On the way to the bar I ran into Elisa and her group and introduced her to the brits, but they were off to somewhere else and we had to catch up to drunk girl who impatiently left before all of us. Naturally, when we arrived at the bar, this girl was completely wasted, unable to walk, being sick everywhere, asking for certain boys, and screaming in a really annoying accent that was almost Irish. I think the worst part was that none of us really knew her, so we didn’t know what to do with her. We were very close to where I and another girl live, though she would only go home with one of our guy friends (wonder why?). So, fed up,me and the girl who lives one second away from me headed home, pissed off at this idiot who ruined everyone’s night. After a few steps she suggested going dancing, she said she knew a kind of “dodgy” place on the way back to where we live. So I said, why not, it could only make things better.
After a jack and coke I saw a looming figure out of the corner of my eye, standing basically beside me, but not making a move. I made it for him. My friend eventually said she was tired gonnna go but “Well done Katie! He’s hot, you have to stay here.” So, I followed her advice. This dance then lead me to his best friends’ apartment, where I hung out with a bunch of really cool French guys. They were all welcoming, laid back, and I felt at home instantly. It was weird. And my dance partner has been playing the acoustic guitar since age seven, which made for good background noises during good conversation.

After a night of snuggling, and a day of hangover recovery, I met him on a Monday afternoon till midnight. We wandered around the city for a period of seven hours, stopping at random places, talking about all kinds of weird things and kissing intermittantly. So, I think I’m his girlfriend suddenly. But, there’s a catch, as always. He works on the coast as a kayak instructor and I will probably only see him on the weekends when he has more free time to be my personal tour guide and french slang dictionary. We’ll see.