wild cowgirl: November 2006

the venue felt good.
not the most beautiful space i've been to, but it was familiar.
no posers...everyone looked like family...super comfortable.
the deejay was accessible (such a thing of the past), and the
roots reggae had a intoxicating flow. even i connected, and i am
no reggae fanatic.

we got there pretty early, and rushed to occupy the last
available booth. our party of 4, soon became 5, and quickly jumped
to 8. nice people. the kind that you feel like you've partied with
a million times before. no weird first time meeting transitions...
no fronts...just folks comfortable with being themselves around
strangers. lovely.

as the night progressed the small dark space became more and
more full. it reminded me of a high school party...the perimeter
of the room was filled with men posting up. soon the entire
room had men swaying softly side to side. there were a LOT of men.
beautiful men. our booth enjoyed dancing with one another all within
the confinements of our corner.

"he is my favorite"
"who?"
"brooklyn hoodie"
"wow.....(sigh)"

as we laugh and talk about everyone we see...we become more crammed
into our corner as the dancefloor now has standing room only. as i pop
up from the booth, i rise with brooklyn hoodie directly in front of me.

"you wanna dance"
"I SAW YOU TOO!....yes, i would like to dance"

as he escorts me to the middle of the room, i turn back to karla imitating
something i figure i've seen joan do on girlfriends. i turn back grinning and
blowing her a dramatic kiss (so lame i am). we slowly try to find one another's
rhythm. he dances well. with me. he touches the top of my waist, and slowly
guides me around to face him. this man is GORGEOUS! his face is
so nicely put together...i look at him, and he smiles...

"what's your name?"
"pam...yours?"
"saleem" (shutup friends. ahahhahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa)
"do you come here a lot? and if so...DO PEOPLE DANCE?"
he laughs..."i used to. i now throw my own parties in brooklyn. i came tonight to scout deejays"
i like how we're dancing.
as i glance over his shoulder i realize how many men are staring at us.
we are literally the only people dancing.

"oh....yea, i don't like attention and we're the only ones dancing. hate to be lame...but ummm"
he laughs again..."c'mon"
he takes my hand and leads me to another section parallel to where i was standing with my friends. he asks me what i do...where i stay...what i'm into...the general 'just meeting' info.
i yawned...
"OH! i'm boring?"
with my head in my hands i laugh..."not in the least...i am tired. i think ima get outta here soon"
"yea me too, but lets exchange info, i want you to come to my parties"

YUP. and i picked him as MY favorite.

"sure"
as he pulls his phone out his pocket, he looks at me intensely...
"pam, ima be real...i have a lady"
what?
huh?
damn. but i PICKED you...and somehow it seemed that you PICKED me...
ego kicked.
"oh. yea. well, you just want me to come to some party. so...yea"
so sad.
as i program my number, i want to kick him for being so beautiful, so nice, so interesting, so gentle, so seemingly interested, and above all, so honost.

"i appreciate your truth"
he rolls his eyes and makes a childlike face that says...'i hate being good'
.....

the next night saleem called.
i too, was good.
i focused him to stay on topic about the party...and that was that.