hang nail

Even when I was a kid, I didn't dance. I'd watch my relatives at weddings, engagements and graduations, and see how much fun they were having making fools of themselves to the electric slide, but I could never lower myself to join them. I was afraid people would laugh at me. At one of these graduation parties, the music was playing all night, and I was probably five years old. My mother encouraged me to go and have fun, but I just sat at the table and watched everyone else, telling myself I'd just go out on the floor later. When the night was about to come to a close, I realized this would be my last chance to join the fun everyone seemed to be having, so I ran on the floor and busted a move to the music (poorly of course), and a circle of happy relatives gathered around me and smiled and clapped. This wasn't fun. I was terrified. After the party, I must have come down with something, because on the ride home, I started feeling really sick. I remember laying in bed and my mom took my temperature. I felt like I was on fire, and I was burning around 103. She put cold compresses on my forehead and gave me something for the fever, and I fell asleep. When I woke up the next day, she asked me if I'd remembered what had happened the night before. Instead of my fever going down, it went up, and I was burning 106. It was like 4am or something. I started wandering around the house and I was hallucinating. I mistook the kitchen cabinet for the bathroom. She got me back into bed and got the fever under control without any further incident. I still don't remember any of that happening.

Tonight, I went to a hip-hop show, and I was content to drink and chat and enjoy the music, but some of my female friends thought it was necessary to push me out on the floor. They dragged me by my shirt, and I pleaded with them not to. I tried to be good humored and laugh and say, "oh no. I don't dance. Haha." And then they circled around me, and I froze up like rigor mortis had set in. I covered my face and joked nervously, "I'm far too modest for all this," but they giggled and pushed and prodded and grinded up against me. I covered my face and clutched my drink close. I couldn't move. It's not that I didn't want to. I wanted to let go and have fun, but I couldn't. I had painted myself into a corner. Joining in would even bring more attention. Afterwards, I felt really embarrassed, not because of what they did, but because I'd acted like such a baby. And then I felt ashamed for being so embarassed. One of the women was my more recent roommate, who I have a good relationship with, and I said that I was sorry, but I'm really uptight. She said, "You're adorable," but I find that my assessment is far more acurate.