I wasn’t feeling great this morning, but after having lunch, I’m feeling a lot better. I had soup, salad and then stuffed myself with pound cake. Someone at work ordered a platter of pastries and barely made a dent in them, so he left them for the rest of the office to ravage. The pound cake was divine. The fruit danish was just ok.

I normally go to dance class on Tuesday nights, but I really just don’t feel like it today. That’s odd, since I’ve been feeling like dancing almost all the time, lately. It’s partly the day, it’s raining, I have a slightly scratchy throat and I’m tired.

Work is starting to get under control, for real, now. I also just realized that next week is Thanksgiving. That means two days off.

Adam and I don’t have any plans. We’ve been together 3 Thanksgivings, and we’ve already exhausted a lot of Thanksgiving possibilities.

One year, we went to a potluck made up of “Thanksgiving orphans;” single moms with kids who went to their father’s house, people who lived far away from home, people who didn’t want to see their families, etc.

Another year, we volunteered at an assisted living facility. We served meals to people whose families had no plans to visit or take them home for the day (or had no families, at all). Serving was part of the purpose, but a bigger part of the purpose was to just give these people some company and conversation during their holiday meal. Of course, food plays a big role in Thanksgiving, but without company and conversation, what’s the point of a special meal? In case you’re curious, most people wanted to talk about their relatives, make excuses for them or talk about how they’d visited the day before or planned to come the next day. Maybe trying to say, “I’m not really as unloved as I look. My family isn’t as awful as they seem.”

It’s kind of interesting, but it seems like humans naturally feel ashamed when they are abandoned in a particularly cruel way. I remember feeling that way, too. I wonder why we think that way?

Then, I think last year, we had a lazy day in. We got a tofurkey, made some other side dishes, enjoyed the food, and didn’t do much else.

We don’t have cable TV, and the computers don’t pick up TV signals, so I spent some time hunting around the internet looking for live streaming of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade (I didn’t find it).

I think this year will be somewhat similar to last, but Adam actually bought a digital converter (not for this, but for sports), so if we pulled the TV out of the garage, we could probably watch traditional Thanksgiving TV.

The thing about Thanksgiving is that it comes up too quickly after Halloween. When we’re still recovering from that holiday, another one is upon us. The two first years, when we actually did something for Thanksgiving, they were things that came together last minute, and we had to scramble to make those things happen. I don’t think either of us are in the mood for scrambling this year.

Anyway, I think part of the reason that I don’t feel like dancing tonight is that I went to a salsa party on Friday night. I danced for four hours straight. After that evening, I had decided that I wanted to get myself a salsa party disguise. I was thinking that it would make my salsa life much easier if I wore a fake wedding ring to the parties. Now that it’s been a few days, I’m starting to wonder if I’m just being overly sensitive. Am I really such a wimp that I can’t deflect a few come-ons?

It used to not bother me, at all, when I was younger. Maybe I’m just sick of the old game. With this attitude, if I ever end up single, I’m likely to stay that way forever (maybe for the best, too).

There was one guy that was especially persistent, some goofy-looking stock trader, and maybe my ego even felt a bit wounded realizing that this guy actually saw himself in my league. But, then again, experientially, I know, there are many guys out there who have shockingly high expectations relative to what they have to offer.

It could also be that he started out on the wrong foot by asking me the one question that always makes my blood boil.

Our first interaction was very early in the night, and I was barely paying any attention to the people who were talking to me (yeah, I know, rude). There were just a lot of people there, and it takes me awhile to orient myself in large groups.

Some guy asked me, “Where are you from?”

I thought it was odd question, seeing as there was no reason for there to be non-local people present, so I said, “I live in Philadelphia.” He response was, “No, no. I know you live here now. Where are you really from?”

I was starting to catch on now, so I replied, “California.” He gave me a puzzled look and said, “Oh.” While he stood there trying to sort that one out, I took my leave.

The old, “You must be from some place exotic because there’s no way you’d be an American, like me, because Americans are all white and middle-class people, like me.”

Now, bi-racial people and racial minorities ask me quite regularly, “What is your ethnic background?” This is mostly because they’re not possessed with the fear of saying something offensive. They are probably not worried about it because they know how to phrase a question that doesn’t have any offensive implications like, “You don’t look like me, so you could not possibly be from the same place that I am from.” Thinking of America of being nothing but white people, seems so ignorant and outdated to me.

Anyway, I soon forgot which guy had asked me that question early in the evening. Later, once the dancing started, he asked me to dance. He then made a terrible mistake by saying, “So, you’re from California?” This identified him to me as the initial offensive question asker.

Of course, this was quickly followed by other mistakes. He was well-meaning, and there’s certainly nothing wrong with trying to get to know some women at a party.

He eventually resorted to trying the ol’, “I make tons of money,” trick on me.

As soon as the song ended, I immediately thanked him for the dance, and turned to leave floor. He gave me another puzzled, almost crestfallen look. I wondered if I’d said something rude. It was sort of abrupt, in the context of the conversation, but not in the context of the dance (the song was over). Before I could respond to his obvious confusion, someone else asked me for the next dance, and that ended the conversation, for real, right there.

That’s how it goes. People are not overt and direct in their intentions; which makes it impossible to respond to their unexpressed intentions. That could have just been his weird, creepy version of friendliness, too. It would have felt presumptuous to address my perception of his intentions.

After that conversation, I thought that would be the last of him. I certainly would have given up by this time. But no, he came back a few more times.

I’m not sure I have it in me, anymore, to deal with the Lonely Single Guy. So, I thought, why not just get a ring?

I know that Nicole frequents these things alone. I wonder how she deals with it. Does she address it directly? Does she ignore it? Does she just expect that people will, “get it” once they realize that she is a regular, at the clubs, and only interested in dancing?

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Tuesday, Nov. 16, 2010 at 7:25 PM