Salsa Crazy!

Went Salsa dancing tonight. Well, it wasn't like a club or anything. This frat on campus was having a salsa night where they give free lessons and drinks and stuff and seeing as though my spring break plans are not materializing, i figured to take my recreation into my own hands.

Now you must understand i am not the girl who randomly goes places by herself to mingle with strangers. I'm not good at that i always feel stupid sitting by the wall in some dark corner willing someone to talk to me. But i was hoping ther would be a lot of people and since it was salsa and they were giving lessons, i was bound to do something and meet someone right? That was the plan when i put on my sexy heels and signature sex top (yes. i have one of those.) and went over.

I got there fashionably late (half an hour is pretty fashionable isn't it?) and it was not packed. I was scared, I had to work really hard to suppress the reflex to turn and high tail it outta there but i walked in and said to myself, if things do not pick up in ten minutes, i am leaving. Ten minutes later i meet this guy. He and i were the only ones who didn't come with a partner. Great stuff.

His name is Ludvig. He's from Norway, an exchange student. He has a Norwegian accent (betcha didn't see that one coming ey?) and an athletic body. I know this because we hit it off and he was my dance partner. And salsa dancing is pretty.... suggestive. Hmmn.

I was in four inch heels but still significantly shorter than him. So much so that i think i was occasionally aware of him looking down my top at times. I mean, it is an easy top to look down i suppose, especially from those heights. He had the typical European look and his shoulders were sexy. I don't know that normal people find shoulders sexy but i definately do and his definately were.

We danced. It was good, i had a good time with him and we sparked up convo. Afterwards we walked in the night air. Beautiful night. Warm with a great breeze and a full moon with a few stars speckled in the blue-black sky. We talked for a while and i got his email address.

Pleasant night all around i'd say. My roommate wants me to go to this African party with her tonight. Hmmn. Yeah, so by "African" it really means Nigerian and while i have nothing against Nigerians, i am avoiding too many Nigerian guys who are bound to be there who think that there might be a budding relationship in the works with me simply because i lack the balls to be blunt and admit that i'd be more interested in a loaf of bread or something. I have been avoiding calls and ducking into loos whenever i see one coming at me down a hallway. It's quite sad really. And i have bumped into two of them on occassion and had to awkward my way through explaining why i had been MIA all of a sudden. Bad, bad, bad. PLus this whole thing where i am the West African man magnet at this bloody school has just got to stop. Why the hell can't i attract American men? How do these men know i am African anyway? It's like a vibe they get or something because most Americans don't know i am not American but the blooming Africans do.

Perhaps i should get over my issues with the African men i have been with and revert back to my ideal no-Americans-strictly-non-dodgy-Africans-for-me mentality i had when i first moved here. Lord knows American men have made my life a Stephen King novel. Come to think of it, American men bug me a little. They really do. But upon further reflection (stay with me here, i am writing as i think so u r getting my mental process right now) it's not really down to the fact that they are American. Men in general have just been bugging me of late.

But American men have that extra layer of cockiness i have encountered with many Americans in general. That whole my-country-is-the-world-and-you-should-conform-to-it-crazy-foreigner-with-an-accent-and-possibly-AIDS train of thought. I realize i am grossly generalizing because a large number of Americans are very worldly and cultured and totally people i respect because so far that has been a rare attribute.

Whoa, where did i get off the road? I love Americans to death. I just keep meeting the wrong bloody ones. Especially when it comes to blokes. And the bloody Africans i meet are so freaking retarded i don't know what to do with myself sometimes. And none of them are cute! I see cute African men all the time who i would die to talk to but they always have a protective layer of motivated no-nonsense-i-will-beat-your-ass-with-a-bottle-if-you-so-much-as-look-this-way-again females surrounding them. And i am not the aggressive or confrontational type so, the odds are against me.

Right. Well, i really meant to just recap on the night's events so far. Apparently brevity eludes the long winded.