A friend was visiting Brooklyn so we went to the bar down the street, which featured a band that was from down the street too.

Six or seven tables were in front of them, three or four condensation-covered drink remnants on top of those, and someone cheeky drifting around in the middle of it all.

He drifted and swayed for the most part, except when he would abruptly stop at a table, pick up a stranger’s drink and pretend to take a sip with a raised eyebrow before gently placing it back in front of its owner. In those moments, he was all elbows and sharp turns – the joke was a pratfall, the story a ballet.

“Enough,” I thought. “I’ll save us,” and I asked him for a dance.

It wasn’t bad. I can’t dance with a partner but thankfully that wasn’t the goal. I was going to be a hero to an audience paying no attention to me, which is really the only kind of hero I know how to be (though I’m trying to change).

The song starts to fade out, we step apart from each other, and I grin and start to say thanks.

He holds up his hands and turns his head sharply as if to avoid a mugging:

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, “but I really don’t want a girlfriend right now.”

****

If you like my nonsense, more of it is available on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook. I’m actually having a lot of fun on Twitter and try to keep talk about what new cool art is around/coming out soon, which helps me keep my head on and heart hopeful. Email me at whatthehellisonmyface at gmail dot com.