...And My Love Life's DOA

I think I kissed my dance instructor.

Okay, so that's not exactly the best thing in the world. It also doesn't make much sense-how can I think I kissed someone? Shouldn't I remember the people with whom I get THAT intimate?

Well, apparently not (which basically accounts for me getting Strep, and then ending up in the ER and...well).

I guess I should recount.

So a week or so ago a few friends and I went to a rave. Now mind you, I am NOT about that life. Really. I swear. Nonetheless, one of my friends' roommates happened to have never gone to a rave before, and well, you know how it goes.

Anyways, all of us ended up a bit "punch-drunk" before we hit the venue (quote Easy A: "we had a few pre-cocktail party cocktails...like...before the cocktail party...with cocktails"), and I left my glasses elsewhere, so by the time we got to the rave, I wouldn't have been able to distinguish Leonardo Dicaprio from Meryl Streep (okay, it wasn't that extreme-maybe Leonardo Dicaprio and Ryan Gosling...)

So we're at this place, and of course, drunk me (which is the more hyper, more entertaining, louder and somewhat looser version of normal me) starts to get her dance on. It's like an out-of-body experience, no joke. I'm doing things that I wouldn't even dare to do in sobriety, moving and shaking things that normally barely even bounce.

Of course, enter guys. And I mean A LOT of guys. Not even in a bragging sense-I kind of "let it go" (cue snowstorm and violins), and I basically ended up moving around to quite a handful (or two) of random guys that I could barely see, with my lips gracing every one of theirs. And no, none of it was classy.

I am appropriately ashamed.

At some point in the night, however, I distinctly remember dancing (and macking) (yes, I did just use that word) with a tall hispanic guy, whom I excused myself from at some point later to go rejoin my friends. It was a very no-strings-attached sort of thing, and I didn't think too much about it.

Until Monday.

That was the day I walked into my Hip Hop I class, and came face to face with...well...what seemed like a very familiar face.

Now, here's the part where I bring in the fact that I was obviously not visually capable the night of the rave, and thus cannot confirm nor deny that I indeed, khkhm, kissed this person. Perhaps I've seen him on campus before. Perhaps I've seen him at work. I couldn't say. But the creeping familiarity was there.

Of course, even if it was him, I highly doubt he'd remember me-the venue was dark and I was wearing a lot of makeup (to the point where I could really have been anyone) so I'm not going to bring it up. Better safe than sorry.

But wow. Talk about lesson learned.

(Though it would be fitting to say that he can definitely still get my heart pounding)
(That was a bad joke)
(I'm sorry)