How the Walrus got it's Groove

"Would you like to go out for coffee sometime?" I looked at something else so I wouldn't need to see the truth in her eyes.
She answered immediately, without terror or awkwardness. "Yeah, but I'd take a Tea or something. I don't really like coffee."
That was a yes. Don't act suprised. You're cool. You expected a yes. That's right. Cool guys Expect a yes.
"Me neither, actually. I'm more partial to cocoa. But coffee is the convention, so I stuck with that."
"Want to go some place now?" she asked. She was serious. "Do you know any places that are open besides Conrads?"
Oh my god. What is happening?

My mind cruised the streets of pasadena. All of them at once. I started On Orange grove, then immediately split down Walnut, Colorado, Del Mar, and California. There has got to be an all-night Diner. Dear GOD, there has to be an all-night Diner.
What's on Fair Oaks? Why don't I know every little place on Fair Oaks? It's North South. I don't know North South streets. DAMN IT. Then my little mental voyage ended. As soon as it begain, I was finished. At the end of Pasadena, on Coloado just across from The Guitar Center, is a Denny's.
"It's on par with Conrad's, but there's a Denny's near by." Since it was the only place that came to mind, it was what I had all my chips (see also: hopes and dreams) riding on.
"I can work with Denny's." She said.

And that's how I got a date with The Woman in Red.


When I dance with her, I feel like I'm the only guy in the room. The way she looks at me makes me feel like I'm doing something wonderful. Technically, part of your job as a social dancer is to make your partner feel like they are doing well, so my demons tell me that she is just humoring me. But sometimes she is. And sometimes she isn't. I don't think you can fake a look like that.
We danced a lot last night. Pressed close against my body we moved as if we were one unit. The balance between us formed one center of gravity that moved across the room. She dances very well.

But I don't. She wouldn't dance twice in a row with me, almost certainly because I have a relatively small library of moves. I just think that I cannot keep a dancer like her entertained for very long. I must learn to be better.
I have a strong lead, good fundamentals, and the remnant of a once prominant personal style. That helps break the monotony of my dance, but What I need to do is practice. If I dance every week, in a few months time, I will be one slick Walrus.

At Denny's, we shared an apple cobbler and talked about College, work and Earthquakes. Shr was raised in Los Gatos, and went occasionally to Santa Cruz as a child. She did marching band and color guard. It was simple small talk that just went back and forth. It was nice. After dinner, I walked her to her car and said, "Thanks for coming out with me. If you'd like to do it again sometime, give me a call." I wrote my phone number in poor handwriting on the back of my business card. This was a planned maneuver, because I didn't want to seem too prepared, if you know what I mean. Earlier that evening, I already written my phone number on a business card in my pocket, because I knew I was going to ask her out.
The feigned impulsiveness of "let me write my number down with this pen I jut happen to have," was a good call. It turns out the business card I had for her in my pocket got crushed in 4 separate ways from a night of dancing.

She gave me Her card, and we parted ways.