April 15, 2009
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4.15/2009
Last night, after class, I went with Tramaine to her free Salsa dancing class. Four of us were left in the room: Tramaine, Vincent, Marcus and myself. She began by asking everyone, then, when no one responded, she moved person to person. Everyone had something to do but me. At first, I was a little reserved. "How long would it last? Where is it located? What if it resurrected previous memories of Averya (having taken the social dancing class with her)?" All of these thoughts hit me the moment she asked. But, nonetheless, I agreed. I agreed because I consider Tramaine a friend of mine, and because of the fact that she had mentioned and asked me before. Anyway, I packed up by books and walked with her to her car. During the drive we discussed ourselves: Where we had come from, the families who raised us, the master's program and our dreams.
The class was nothing like what I expected. It was free both in the monetary sense and the personal sense. Even though I felt pressured to dance... or attempt dancing, that pressure was self-imposed. No one seemed to be watching or criticizing other people's movements, rhythm, or lack thereof. I learned about four to five different moves, but could only do two of them easily without too much thought on coordination. (Also, being there, I never once was reminded of the social dance class I had with Averya. For some reason I thought that the music or the dancing would trigger some kind of memory. I was wrong.)
After the class ended around eight or nine, she asked me if I wanted to go to another Salsa dancing venue. I agreed this time without hesitation. Salsa, to me, appeared to be a challenge, and, like a newb at a game, I wanted to learn more and become better. We ended up taking a small hiatus at her apartment so she could put on some new clothes for the next place. While there we had some interesting conversations about what it meant to be spiritual, being saved, the existence of God, falling, being drunk, school and learning, and finding what you want out of life.
Some interesting moments did occur while we were there at her apartment. While we were talking in her apartment, she was changing clothes. I was talking to her from her living room and had a direct line of sight to her changing in her bathroom via reflection off the mirror. (So, the door was open and she was standing in the room, but I could see her and she could see me through the angle of the mirror.) At one point, she took off her shirt, revealing her bra, and then realized that I would be able to see her. She said something like "Oops" and quickly put on another shirt. (I looked away once I realized that she was wearing just a bra.)
Another moment of ambiguity happened a little later. She was coming in and out of the bathroom wearing different shirts, and asking me how each one looked or what color she should wear. I gave her approval and then she came out with perfume on. She puts her arm in my face to give me a whiff of the scent. That moment seemed a little out of place: Why would she want my input about her perfume when she cannot change it once it's applied?
...
One interesting part of the night was a moment when she told me when she initially found herself intrigued by me. I'm citing this not out of arrogance, but because the moment isn't what I, or many, would expect. We were sitting in class having a discussion about child brides in Africa and the professor asked us what the end solution would be. Tramaine talked about intervention and then I muttered "Do nothing." I didn't even understand that I'd said those words until I ended the sentence. Looks like my mental censor had left work early that day. "Who said that?" Asked the professor. "I did." I said. I then launched into a discussion on how this thing had been going on for years, and that many interventions had been tried and nothing stuck. Also, I mentioned that, perhaps this is something for African women to become conscious of and own themselves. I figured, with many great civil rights struggles there is usually a grassroots movement. Perhaps such a movement about child brides is just a matter of time, and outsiders or Westerners attempting intervention seemed impersonal to them.
Anyway, the point of that story was illustrate the fact that she found herself interested in me as a person during a moment of, for lack of a better word, being a dick. Even she compared the moment to her trying to make a lay-up and me swatting away the ball. She told me that her first inclination was to go across the table and choke me, but then, after the violent urges subsided, she began to wonder who I was. Haha. The ironic thing was that I regretted speaking up for days after it happened. Life is funny that way I guess.
...
We got to the second place, which happened to be a restaurant with an already-crowded dance floor. There I was able to practice my basic skills and learn to link those basic skills together. I was nervous at first about dancing in front of random strangers who were already excellent dancers, but I guess that nervousness died when I realized that they shouldn't care: I'm learning to dance, so who cares if I screw up? Anyway, as we danced, the basic steps began to ingrain in my mind. I got to a point where I could almost transition to any one of four different moves I knew. Anyway, I thought I should play a game with her. In salsa dancing, the man has to lead and the woman has to follow or predict what the guy is going to do. I would start out a move and say something like "Where am I going?" I would then change directions. At one point, she burst out laughing and rest her head on my shoulder for a moment.
I know I've had a great night when it's hard for me to go to sleep. That night I alternated between dreaming about the events of the night and laying in bed awake. I hardly got any sleep due to my excitement of meeting someone both new and familiar. The night of dancing permeated both my thoughts and my dreams, and I rolled back and forth alternating between dreaming and being unable to sleep due to replaying the night in my head.
The strange thing is that, in retrospect, the entire night felt like a dream. It felt a little surreal: The way conversation seemed to flow, dancing with her, being in her apartment,.... everything.
One of the best nights I've ever had. Bar none.
One thing about Tramaine that seems strange to me is the fact that it feels as though I've known her for a while. The entire night felt entirely too familiar. It was as if I knew her already, and as if we'd been friends for years. There was no awkward period. There was no shyness. I can't explain this... there's no way for me to explain something like this.
How is this possible?
Well, it looks like my salsa dancing may have turned off Alicia. She's been acting distant ever since my message went up on my blackberry. I can't say I didn't see this coming though. Then again, perhaps I'm misreading the cold shoulder. Either way, it seems as though I gained a good friend as I lost another... so, in essence, I guess I just broke even.
Meh.
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