viragette

The Ring of Power

Yesterday evening my buddy R and I went out to an art opening and ended up on a dance floor. Being in possession of a complete set of full-sized chromosomes, I like me some dancing. R even braved the dance floor in the turtleneck she was wearing to conceal the world’s biggest hickey. The girl looked like she’d been attacked by a Hoover - a big one.

Every once in a while, some plucky young guy would sidle over and dance with us, which is usually great fun. Now, I am a no-touch kind of girl (with the obvious exception of the HB, who was sadly not in attendance). In my practice of dance, there is just no excuse for “leading” when any song by Prince is being played. More than once I had to swat away an errant hand. “Sorry, sorry. You’re so pretty” (Me: Raise lovely yet icy eyebrow of pity.) A guy will usually go for the waist, which can be easily deflected by the Floating Cloud-style Arm Chop/Sidestep combination (I believe Uma Thurman holds the patent). I even had one try for my hair (WTF?!), and considered breaking out my Flying Mantis Attack, but fortunately for him he stepped down.

Since marrying the HB, however, I have acquired the ultimate power for repelling an unwanted suitor on the dance floor. After repeated rebuffs, a determined supplicant will usually lean over and SHOUT into your ear: “WHERE IS YOUR BOYFRIEND?”. At which point, I hold up my left hand while placing the index finger of my right hand in such a way as to point out the gigantic rock there.

No one has yet withstood The Ring, however yesterday evening I realized that the Power of The Ring may be growing. One young man was literally thrown backwards across the dance floor with such force that he bumped up against the opposite wall.