Last night we danced in her apartment. She was trying to show me how to dance, I should say. At first she was playing fast music, but then she put on slower music. She was showing me how to move and when. It was nice, really nice. My mind wandered though.

I started thinking about the dance I had to do at my wedding. I was so nervous. I can’t dance very well. I just buried myself in my ex and let her lead, and I followed along. So during our dancing last night, I started to get overwhelmed in the sadness of my wedding dance, and the sadness of the whole wedding. I buried myself in my ex and let her lead and I tried not to step on her dress. It’s not just the sadness of the memories of a wedding for a marriage that ended – it was the sadness of that sad wedding. My sister was really late so we had to start without her. The officiant and everybody was rushing me. I didn’t know what to do so I just said go ahead, let’s get started. There was the sadness of my sister finally showing up after the vows were said and the thing was over. My sister got out of the car and she was…crying…of course. My nephew, who was the driver of the sister party – he was apologetic and sad, and I felt bad for him…for his sadness. There was the sadness of the place. It was a wedding at a bed and breakfast…which seemed perfect…but really it was sad. There was the sadness of the wedding night. We had sex, but we had already been together for eleven years. The sadness of her finally consenting to marriage after eleven years. There was the sadness of the place. It was a nice place, but it was in kind of a shitty neighborhood that I had always seen scary headlines about: shootings, burnings etc. There was the sadness of the cake. It was a great cake, but we got it from a cake maker who employed….retarded people or some such shit. It was a magnificient cake, but it had that element of sadness to it. There was the sadness of the owner of the cake business who made the cake. She also worked part-time as a marriage counselor, and she made a joke about it, “I not only make cakes for weddings at the beginning of marrianges, I also do counseling at the other end of the marriage. Ha ha ha.” ‘Yeah, thanks cunt. Thanks for the association of these two things.’ There was the sadness of my music selection. The wedding planner that came with the bed and breakfast – she said she thought the music wasn’t peppy or cheery enough or something. ‘Thanks, wedding planner. Thanks for that.’ There was the sadness of the ring the ex bought me. It’s still in the compartment in the door of my car. I put it there in case I suddenly got the urge to toss it out the window on some long drive to fuckin nowhere…never to even be remembered again…never to even be found on a map again…not even sure what state i was in.

All of this: triggered by some dancing in a small, dark apartment to music piped in through computer speakers via Pandora. The mix was probably called ‘doin it music’ or something like that.

But really, it was a beautiful night with beautiful moments and she’s a beautiful person for offering to show me how to dance. For being a dance partner, a dance facilitator. It was so beautiful that my mind had to fuck it up and remember bad shit and really fuck me up. She could tell that my mind was wandering because I would right away be out of step with the dance. She would point it out: Your mind is wandering, where are ya?


About HappyApathy

It eels what it eels.
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