Dancing

"I've been ghosting, I've been ghosting along. Ghost in your house, ghost in your arms."
- Mother Mother, Ghosting

At the end of my party, after having wanted it all night, or maybe I had been wanting it for years - I danced with Wrecking Ball. He had bought me two drinks, and I just felt - I don't know. I felt like he might be receptive to it, despite the fact that he had not indicated for years that he was interested in me. One of my best friends, Hey Rosetta!, told me that Wrecking Ball had confided in her boyfriend, Hamlet (he has known Wrecking Ball for less time than I, but they have a lot in common and are quite close) that he might be interested. I still didn't want to bet on it, so I waited as long as I could.

He walked away from the bar, and when he came back, I grabbed him by the wrists, said "Let's dance" and pulled him close. It was awkward at first, especially the question of where to keep our hands. Then our arms were kind of around each other, and then he slid one of my arms out into a waltz position and we were just spinning, dancing in a way that was completely out of sync with the music that was actually playing, but it was so wonderful. "We're dancing!" I told him, almost incredulously. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to  hold me forever.  I wanted him.

Several blissful minutes later, we stopped dancing and it was time to go home. He wanted to keep dancing with me, but our drive said it was time to go. I could have danced all night with him. I could have danced forever.