I went to a single's dance. My friends, there's a reason some of these people are still single. As I glanced around the room, I noticed a table, yes a WHOLE TABLE, full of different kinds of breath mints: York peppermint patties, LifeSavers, minty taffy...This was my first red flag. The next was when I was asked to dance by a shortish man in his mid-forties who prefers to pole dance to fast songs. If this is hard to picture, don't try. I have the image seared into my brain for eternity. As he told me about his man-crush on David Archuleta, suddenly he stopped talking and demanded to know why I was looking at him. Uh... I managed to escape to get a drink and every time I accidentally came near him and his giggling friend, he told me to stop stalking him.
The next man who asked me to dance was a dentist. He refused to dance, so I did a bit of a shuffle next to him. He was a spitter. He asked me if I was from Tennessee. I asked if I have an accent. He said, "No, you're the only ten I see," and gave a short, bark-y laugh. It took me a minute to realize that I was being given "a line," since I haven't been the lucky recipient of one of those babies since junior high. I managed to escape after he told me I have pretty teeth and offered to give me private skiing lessons.
Is that all, you ask? No. I had another fella tell me in detail why his three previous relationships had failed before I even knew his name. I was about to ask, but felt it was rude... "Uh-huh, that's too bad she was emotionally unavailable. What was your name again?"
I found myself waiting for a missionary couple to come in the room and inform us that they had been called to chaperone these dances for LDS delinquents/single people over thirty. The newsletter for this dance said 31+, which is a euphemism for 31-death. I saw an elderly gentleman in his eighties pushing his walker into the dance-hall. There HAS GOT to be a better way.
FYI: Older men have no problem asking women half their age to dance.
