If You're Going My Way, I'll Walk With You: September 2022

The other day, as I've written, I went dancing with my favorite uncle and we had a swell time swinging and swaying to a live dance band playing the hits of Glen Miller, Benny Goodman, Tommy Dorsey and Woody Herman -- preach your sermon, Herman! And this past weekend my first cousin once removed (that is, my uncle's son's son -- I think I got that right), who graduated from high school in June and who just finished a summer school course in ballroom dancing, asked me to go dancing with him. I thought sure, why not? It'll be fun. Most males of any age will not dance, so why decline an opportunity?

The dance club I went to with my uncle is closed all this month and there are not a lot of options for dancing that are not some kind of crummy club scene, but I did find a members-only club that features live foxtrot, swing, jump blues and cool jazz by local and visiting bands. It's located in the defunct railroad station I mentioned in an earlier post. So I bought a membership, pleased to find such a venue, and, as I had done with my uncle, reserved a hotel room for us to change into our dancing duds once we arrived in the big city.

For the long drive from the boondocks to civilization, my uncle lent us his Cadillac CT6-V with, it seemed, all the options, and we started driving for the bright lights of civilization late in the day, enjoying seeing a gibbous moon rise ahead of us. Once, some antelope darted across the road, and we stopped counting all the coyotes and jackrabbits we saw. We chatted idly as the miles slipped by, the car a delight to drive, and cuz told me about being in the JROTC and planning to have a career in the navy and that gave us plenty to talk about, and made the time pass quickly.

At the hotel we changed into our "puttin' on the Ritz" rags and I must say the young gentleman looked quite handsome in a suit and tie and I said so as I retied his tie into a neater knot and made sure it hung straight. I took a safety pin out of my purse and fixed the tie to his shirt from behind and out of sight so that it wouldn't fly up, something I always do for el Jefe. Nobody seems to wear tie pins or tie chains anymore. My dad always wore a tie pin.

When he saw my ensemble -- and I did a little pose and pirouette -- cuz's face grew beet red and he sat down with his hands in his lap, not quite the reaction I had expected. But then a light bulb lit up over my head and I got it: teenage boy, raging hormones.... So I told him not to worry about it, that sort of thing happens at his age and it was actually kind of flattering. Remembering my mother's admonitions, I refrained from making any risque jokes. But it was hard.

So off we went to the club, driving this time because it was too far to reasonably walk. Cuz was silent and stared out the window, not once looking at me. I was pretty sure I understood why, and thought that, in consideration of him, I should not have worn such a short minidress, although that style is easy to make dance moves in. I let the car parallel park itself -- I could have done a better job; no, really -- and we went in. The host carded my, um, date and warned us that he could not be served any alcoholic drinks and I said that was fine. I didn't want any either. In that case, he said, there would be a slight cover charge to ameliorate overhead. So we had to pay not to drink. Never heard of that before. Oh, well.

We were led to a cozy booth, the kind where both parties sit on the same side, with a good view of the band, which was tearing up the joint with a jump blues number. We sat it out waiting for our virgin cokes -- when I ordered them 2cuz blushed and I reminded myself that all this was new to him -- and taking in the ambience of the club and watching the other dancers.

The next number was a swing tune that sounded vaguely familiar and we decided to give it a whirl. At first he was a bit awkward and made some false steps but when I told him to just let himself fall into the music and not think about what he was doing he smoothed out and did much better. We danced three numbers in a row before we sat down again and he was still rarin' to go. When I slid into the booth and scooched over for him he didn't look away, then he sat down beside me, executing the move rather gingerly and ending up about two feet closer to me than he had been when we first sat down.

He ordered the cokes this time, as well as some snack food. While we were eating, he somehow managed to drop his fork and had to duck down under the table to retrieve it. He spent more time down there than seemed really necessary. Smooth, I thought to myself, real smooth. I wasn't angry or upset, just amused. He surfaced panting slightly and apologized, showing me the fork. I said he should ask for a clean one but he wiped it off on his napkin.

A thought suddenly occurred to me and I asked if he had brought his cell phone. He said, of course! and I suggested we have our server take a photo of us. He was enthusiastic, saying wait till he showed the guys what a hot date really looked like. I figured he would not mention that his "hot date" was also his cousin. So we had some snapshots taken and we bent our heads together to look at them, commenting on which one we liked. I took the phone from him to get a better look at the one he liked best and then kind of absently scrolled back to some earlier shots.

Ah hah! I knew it. Upskirts of yours truly. He tried to retrieve his phone but I held it up high and out of his reach. But he persisted and I immediately realized doing that was not wise as he leaned over me and pushing me down onto the booth seat with him heavily on top of me. He probably weighed 60 or 70 athletic pounds more than me. I let him have his stupid phone but he didn't let me up right away. I said, "They are going to throw us out of here in about two seconds if you don't get off of me." He hesitated, mumbled sorry, and let me up. I was not pleased, but I didn't want to spoil an evening that had just begun and that I had been looking forward to, so I managed a smile and let it go.

I straightened my clothes and excused myself to visit the ladies lounge to get some time to try to figure out how to carry out the rest of the evening. My plan had been to dance at the club till around 9:30 or ten, then have a late dinner, change back into our driving clothes and head home, getting there around one am or two at the latest. Now.... Cuz might feel bad about what he had done and just want to go home. I didn't want him to feel that way, so I thought I would let him know I understood that the situation got the best of him and I wasn't offended, and I didn't mind continuing on with our evening. Then I considered that I was probably putting thoughts into his head that weren't there. He might be thinking how he could do it -- and even more -- again. He was a guy, after all. So I decided that I shouldn't let myself be a literal push-over, but teach him some kind of lesson about how to behave with a woman. He needed to learn self-discipline. But I couldn't think how to do that. A man could have read him the riot act and he would have listened, but a man, even a young one, being scolded or lectured by a woman just finds her annoying. Doing it is a waste of time. And I sure wasn't going to pout or sulk or act like I had been emotionally damaged for life. I have my dignity. The kid was just a randy jerk. What to do?

As I made my way back to our booth deciding maybe the best thing to do or say was nothing, a man who appeared to be in his middle forties accosted me as I passed by his table and invited me to sit down. I told him I was on my way back to my date. The band was just starting up another number and he said, "Well, how about a dance first?" To that I agreed, glad to have the chance to delay deciding how to deal with cuz. The guy was a good dancer and it was a pleasure to relax into his lead. He said my date looked pretty young and I explained the situation and also complimented him on his dancing and how pleasant it was not to have to worry about any clumsy moves.

Glancing over at our both, he said, "Speaking of clumsy moves, I saw the move he put on you. He must have thought he was in the back seat of his dad's car. What started it? Why were you holding his phone away from him?" I said that he had taken some photos I didn't like.

"Of you?"

"Yes."

"When he dived under the table?"

"Yes."

"Has he been drinking or is he high?"

"Not that I can tell. Just randy."

"You can't blame him for being that. If you were my date, I'd be randy, too."

As he said that, he slipped his hand from the small of my back to caress my hind quarters, where he let it stay. I was about to tell him to keep his hands off the merchandise but suddenly I felt tired. What the hell. This evening was not turning out at all the way I had imagined it would. Let the guy feel me up. I'd noticed he was wearing a wedding ring, so I asked where his wife was. He said she was at home. She had been crippled in an automobile accident and couldn't get around very easily anymore, let alone dance.

"So you go out and hit on strange women?"

"Pretty much. Sometimes I get lucky."

"Well, not with me. Thanks for the dance and the butt squeeze."

"Oh, the pleasure was all mine. Thank you! Good luck with your young date." And he gave me the most lascivious leer.

My cousin stood up to let me in the booth, then slid in next to me. He started to say something about his previous behavior but I cut him off, saying harshly, "Oh, forget it!" Then, regretting my peevishness, gave him a peck on the cheek and patted his arm. As I did so, a 50ish couple walked past our booth and the woman said, half to her companion and half to me (as I thought), "Robbing the cradle, I see." The man said, "Well, some like them young." And she retorted, "Just like you!" and he replied, "Now wait just a minute, what brought that on?" And they walked away getting into an argument.

My cousin became agitated but I told him not to mind such comments. We weren't really on a date, weren't a couple, just two cousins out dancing because neither of us had anyone else to dance with. We shouldn't let the misunderstandings and rudeness of others interfere with our evening. You're always going to run into jerks and you can't let them get under your skin. That's what they want. Don't give them the satisfaction.

Then we got into a discussion of what I found attractive in a man and I mentioned that, among other things, stoicism was very appealing to me. It demonstrated strength of character, I believed. I also liked a man who was capable, didn't boast but could get the job done, whatever the job was, without a lot of fanfare. Of course, he should be physically fit -- no beer belly! -- but I didn't like the gym muscle look. What I liked was a man fit from working, especially from being outdoors and working outdoors. He also should like and understand animals, have a nice smile, be even-tempered.... And at this point I realized I was was just rambling on, enamored by my own blabbering, and shut up.

I asked him what he found attractive in a woman. He immediately said, "Someone like you!" and I said, "Oh, get out of town! You do not! Come on, think of some girl in high school that caught your eye."

Then he told me about this girl he was crazy about. He knew where her locker was and he would make sure to be walking down the hall just as she arrived there to get books and notes for the next class. One time she glanced up as he passed and smiled at him, but he had frozen up inside and ignored her. The next time he passed by her she didn't look at him. He was so mad at himself. All he had to do was smile back and say "Hi." But he couldn't.

I put my hand on his and said, "There'll be other such girls, other opportunities. Consider those girls just like me. You're talking to me, aren't you? I'm just another person who is enjoying getting to know you. And you got pretty out of hand there a few minutes ago and nothing came of it because I like you and forgive your idiocies."

"Yeah, but you're different from other girls."

"No, I'm not. I'm just your standard-issue female."

At this point, the band started a slow swing number and I glanced at the dance floor. He picked up my cue and led me out onto the floor. A couple of times his hand slipped from the small of my back to my rump and rested there. I think he was emulating what he saw that man do. Since I hadn't smacked the creep's hand away, I let my cousin's hand wander. He kept glancing down and I thought he was looking at his feet to judge his dance steps and I was about to say he would be smoother if he wasn't self-conscious about his movements, but then I realized he was taking in my cleavage. Apparently, progress had been made in alleviating his shyness around women.

After one more dance, I asked him if he was hungry and he said he was starving, so we wrapped up our club visit and headed to a local cafe that specializes in burgers made with local beef and he vacuumed up two double bacon cheeseburgers with extra-large sides of french fries and onion rings. And he still had room for apple pie a la mode. I had a club sandwich and filched some of his fries and an onion ring. When I went for another one, he smacked my hand and we both laughed. Then he relented and let me have it. Mr. Shy Guy was definitely gone.

When we got back to the hotel it was just after midnight and the night clerk had come on duty. He remembered me from when I had been there with my uncle. He looked from me to my cousin and back again, made a sort of twist with his mouth but said nothing. When we got to our room, my cousin said he was still hungry and looked over the room service night snack menu. I told him not to order anything that would take a lot of time to prepare as I had promised to get him home tonight and if we stayed overnight we would both be in the doghouse. So he picked out a strawberry cheesecake and then asked if it would be all right if he also ordered a beer. I hesitated but said okay. When I placed the order, the operator asked if the beer was for me, so apparently even the room service staff knew who was in Room 1313. I said it was. While we waited for the order to arrive, my cousin asked to take some selfies with us together and I agreed without thinking much about it. Later, I thought, Lord, he is going to show those around to his buddies and it will be obvious we are in a hotel room together. That little... But whatever.

While he ate his cheesecake and drank his beer, I took a shower, intending to change into my driving clothes and get us home, but I'd left them on the bed, so I wrapped the bath towel around myself and went to fetch them. When I came out of the bathroom, my cousin was sprawled across the bed asleep. I tried to wake him, even leaned over and shook him, but the beer and all that food seemed to have finally done for him and he just muttered something. Then he pulled me down on top of him and slid his hands under my towel, pushing it aside. After a brief tussle, I broke his grip and got off the bed and retrieved my towel, which he had tossed on the floor next to him. As I did so, he said, "Wanda, Wanda, I love you," and then he rolled over with his back to me. I said, "You're on my clothes. I want my clothes. Will you please get off my clothes?" But he didn't respond.

Suddenly I felt exhausted myself and...I don't know...defeated. This evening had not gone at all as I had planned. I sure didn't feel like driving a couple of hours through the night, keeping alert for animals dashing across the road, to get back home.

I noticed the time and remembered el Jefe was going to Skype me in a few hours as he always did since he began this deployment. I knew I couldn't stay awake that long so I chanced calling him. I stood by the window to ensure a good connection.

The street below was empty, bathed in orange light. Far down the street I saw a small green and blue neon sign alternately flashing a cocktail glass and the name of the bar: The Green Lantern. The name seemed familiar and I wondered if it was the title of some 1940s or '50s pop tune. I imagined Philip Marlowe sitting at the bar ordering a rye and the barmaid looking him over and asking if that was a gun in his pocket or was he glad to see her and he answering it's actually a gun, honey. Imagining the scene, I chuckled. I often make myself laugh at the silly thoughts that roam around inside my head.

The Skype connection came through clear and smooth from the other side of the world and el Jefe was there. I'd explained to him before that I would be taking my cousin dancing so he asked how that went and I told him the whole story, down to the hotel desk clerk giving me the fish eye. I panned the phone around so he could see my cousin asleep on the bed. The evening's events he thought funny and also arousing. I don't know why. I certainly didn't.

I always provided him relief on our Skypes and this time was no different. I went into the bathroom but the signal cut out so I had to go back to the window. I asked if we could postpone until later but he said he would not be available later and please....

I didn't want to turn on any lights and wake my cousin so I pushed the chair from the room's writing desk next to the window to get light from the streetlights and buildings across the street, propped my cell phone on the window sill and satisfied him.

When the call was over, I slipped my towel back over my shoulders as I stood up and glanced at my cousin. So engrossed in the call had I been that I'd forgotten about him. He appeared to still be sleeping. But he could be feigning. I studied him closely for a few seconds and thought I saw him move. Then I thought, oh, who cares?

I had another quick shower, then stood beside the bed, hesitating. I looked at the upholstered sitting chair in the corner. I didn't want to try to sleep in that and I didn't want to sleep on the floor. I got a blanket out of the closet and covered my cousin, then crawled beneath the sheets, cold against my skin. I thought I would fall asleep right away, I was so tired, but I didn't.

I stared up at the ceiling thinking over the evening. I should be more forceful dealing with people I told myself for the umpteenth time. But I hate conflict and just want to get along with everybody. I enjoy pleasing people and making them happy. So people take advantage. Well, that was just me. I couldn't change my personality. I was who I was. Finally, I decided that it had been, all things considered, a very interesting evening. Nothing bad had actually happened. I did get to dance to a pretty good live band, which is what I had wanted to do. My last thought before I fell asleep was that I really missed el Jefe and wished it was him on the bed next to me.

Some jump blues: