Dear Ms. Chair Dancer, Miss Dancing your behind off from the waist up!! Ms. Electric Slide in the Electric chair,
I wanted to scribble this note on this drink napkin and have it delivered to you in hopes of sharing with you life on the opposite end of your decline to dance. Let me begin my agreeing that it is and will always be your prerogative and right to decide if you want dance or not dance. You always reserve the right to accept or decline any and all offers to boogie at any time. I tried to be considerate and open enough to try to see things from your point of view but I still just don’t get it. I didn’t ask for a limb, for you to be beneficiary on my Life insurance policy, or to mother six children, I asked if you would like to dance. This was based upon your perceived desire to dance somewhere other than your seat.
Here are some things to consider.
First of all I didn’t just attack your table and space with reckless abandonment. I didn’t overrun your position like a Special Forces Attack and Destroy squad, I accessed you and your scenario long before I made the pilgrimage across the Sahara desert of this establishment. Long before peregrination across the windy winter open range of this dance floor, I thought long and hard about it. I even formulated a Plan B strategy that would include a detour to the bathroom just in case you rejected me. My checklist resembles that of the Apollo One prior to takeoff into outer space. Hair, teeth, and breath? Check. Cologne, clothes? Check. Shoes and nails? Check. Introductory greeting grammatically sound? Check. Excuse me? Hi my name is? Hey there, I was wondering? Girl come on and let’s do this? I even considered the hand gesture slash universal sign language for us to meet on the floor. ALL CRAP!! I even composed an appreciation statement in case you stomped on my feelings, in which I presented with a smile. I’m fake smiling as we speak. So many words in my head, so little time thus I wrote it on a napkin.
I said to myself, see it through her eyes, so I played it out. You and your girls said, let’s go out tonight. Everybody agreed and the “get ready” was on!! You chose your outfit, your heels, you did your hair and makeup, your perfume and glitter lotion and boom!! Here we go. You decided before you came that when they put your song on, you would be satisfied simply “chair dancing” while your whole crew got their boogie on. Who does that? You said, “I came to this club and it doesn’t matter how funky the beat is or how much fun seems to be displayed out there, NOT TONIGHT.” I’m cool with that, but what throws me is the Chair surfing? How are you Line dancing in a bar stool? Cupid shuffling on the sofa? You a Savage, Rachet, Boochee, Sitting? Do you have legs? Just checking…
We just wanted you to have a great time tonight so we walked the plank over to your pirate ship only to be thrown overboard. If I would have seen the eye patch and hook, I would have stayed over here and danced with “Over aggressive, Seagrams drinking Samantha.” The Violater is what I call her. Hell, what line? She knows none. I started to ask her for my virginity and my gold tooth back. I might be pregnant. I need to stop by Walgreens on the way home. I’m gonna give YOU a pass. Maybe the heels hurt, or the dress was uncomfortable, maybe you lost a contact lens in the way in or one too many drinks?
Just remember, it’s takes a whole lot for someone to walk the Ebony Essence model runway under spotlights, just to come and ask you to dance and have a good time.
Still got love for you