Dancing with The Doctor

As you saw in the last post, I love dancing around my house. Just the other day, I got bored with verbally abusing Tony Horton whilst pretending to put effort into P90X. Instead, I danced on the kitchen table.

No, Tony! I do not want to "bring it"!

As much as I love dancing when no one other than my roommates can see me, an equal amount of anxiety crushes in on me when I have to attend a dance. And, yes, I have to. Elaine would murder me in my sleep if I hindered her dance-going in any fashion.

She loves her some dancin'

So, when I got a text saying that we were invited to a dance last night, I knew that there was no escape. When we got there, our group of 7 made up roughly half of the participants. We walked into the room and immediately saw the group from our church standing in a circle in the corner. We made our way over to them, and I stopped in front of some boys I knew and commenced with dancing. Everyone started shooting glances at each other and I felt a hand grab my arm and yank me backwards. I had been standing in the direct middle of the circle. What I'm sure it looked like to everyone else, was that I was so anxious to dance with those boys, that I felt no regard for the established circle pattern. In reality, I am just a highly confused individual.

Towards the end, someone requested a slow song. After everyone had finished groaning, and a majority of the girls ran into the snow to escape, the boys began milling about. I was asked to dance, we introduced ourselves and began talking about the usual stuff. When the struggling small talk turned to majors, he seemed very excited about my English plans. He asked me what I liked to read, and I answered "Stuff from the Romantic period, mostly. Oscar Wilde is my hero!" He told me that his favorite author was Dostoyevsky. I smiled, and pretended that I was highly familiar with his works. Actually, I just had to google "famous Russian authors" to remember more about his name than it started with "D" and ended in "evsky". 

He said that Romantic literature was good, but not his favorite, citing Jane Austen as an example of mediocre novels. I explained in a very eloquent fashion that I love Jane Austen, but as an escape when I don't really want to think critically about literature. However, it's certainly a more intellectual escape than, say, Twilight. By the look on his face, the music and my habit of speaking softly had interfered and all he had heard was, "I love Jane Austen.....(mumble mumble).....not as much as Twilight!"

Finally the song ended, and he said "Thanks for the dance, Megan!" I laughed and told him that my name was Mary, then he just looked at me so I made the mistake of attempting to remember his name. The only thing I could think about was how much he looked like Matt Smith.

This, but with more eyebrow and less bow-tie

So, I said "Yeah, thanks Matt!" He made a face. "Oh, sorry, Matthew?" His name was Michael.