Hot guys and “air tracks “simply do not mix.
While I am content with playing the new track from Mcknife and Avry at odd hours of the day ,I sometimes feel the urge to reconcile with my past after all this time – my past didn’t exactly take the news that ‘me and him didn’t twerk no more ‘ .(laugh out loud). So ladies, if you find yourself listening to that track, be very careful; if you decide to hit the dance floor. Nothing ruins your boyfriends /friends opinion of you than a dance gone wrong .That lesson was something I learned recently …
The guy I am seeing , we’ll call him Dave for the sake of anonymity ,invited me to hang out with him and his friends .it was the first time in our relationship that we were going out to a party since freshman year .Bear in mind that I am not Anastasia Steel completely . In fact, I am quite the opposite: innocent but flirty .If you have ever met a tainted good girl, it would be I ;wish I could tell you the amount of times, I daydreamed of dancing with him and how I would wiggle it.
We had been together since first year and I wanted to spice things up and you can imagine how many hours I spent in town looking for the perfect outfit …I had to impress him and his friends (thoughts of naïve twenty year old) …I had to be hot than Jenny from the block and I needed the perfect outfit to accentuate my ‘assets ‘.
I ended up splurging on a sexy black dress and matching combo (undergarments) and I was going to kill it (imagine what dress you would get with a college student’s allowance). I watch a lot of movies and always imagined that I was Gabrielle Union and all the boys in the club would check me out and hopefully not notice the tissues holding my bra in place.
That very evening we went out to paint the town red, holding hands and I confronted with twerking thoughts. He loved the dress (testosterone) and I leaned in a little closer to him so he would notice my perks ..He just smiled to himself .As time flew by he became engrossed watching two bootylicious girls twerk their ass off and whine up a glass in front of him. I grew so impatient with my ‘cant-keep-his-eyes on me Dave so I leaned in a little closer and moved to the dance floor –ready for a night he will never forget .
That got his attention, alright –he had never seen me this confident (blame it on the liquor)
His smile encouraged me to pull him to me and put my hand on his neck and I looked into his hazel eyes and started to whine and grind (just as I had seen on MTV ) .I had never done it before but reckoned it was easy after all Air was some dope track I was supposed to know. As I writhed and moved my body to the music, I thought of all the sit-ups and squats I had done for this day.
And I wondered why he was laughing ,I thought he was proud of me but something felt wrong .In my mind I was doing a Shakira but to him I was a steel robot trying to whine and I could have died on that spot but I focused on my dorm bed waiting for me back at home. To make matters worse my dress was all rolled up and exposing my undergarments, leaving my butt completely exposed to everyone.
The old me would have ran away crying, but I removed his hands and pulled my dress down: I was out of AIR. I took my bag and left the party with e sounds of Mcknife and Avry playing on to the writhing bodies and I remember my embarrassed but lovely boyfriend running after me.
I am glad the night is over but I never want to twerk again. The song is catchy and all but what is a good girl supposed to do when she shows up to a party with her boo?