I went down to the city this weekend, with Roser (husband), his sister and her husband. (Friends with sister-in-law, friendly with s-i-l's husband) We went on a dinner cruise and then out dancing. The cruise was interesting. We had the cutest (personality and looks) waiter, but the food tasted like wedding food. That was not a huge problem, actually, because the moment the boat started moving, my stomach started flipping. It took 6 glasses of Champagne to feel normal, and by then I was too full for the extremely well cooked Snapper stuffed with crab, or, Krab. (not sure which)

Right next to our table was a young coulple celebrating their 1st anniversary. They had done some pre-partying and were lit by the time the cruise started. Apparently the four of us were irresistable to these two drunk kids. They latched onto us all night. When the wife started dirty-dancing with me, Roser had enough and scootcheded me right off the dance floor. We deboarded at around 10:30 and we were all still in the mood to party. S-i-L and I changed out of our fancy dresses, and she put on jeans and a shirt her boobs wouldn't flop out of, and I put on shorts and a strapless top. I made a concession to comfort by putting on Flip-flops instead of my nice strappy heels. That was a huge mistake. I was comfortable alright, but, the city is like shoes on parade. Every thing from slip-on stilletos accented with flowers to the most beautiful pointiest pumps imaginable. I stayed on the right side of obsessive jealousy until I saw a pair of purple patent leather platforms. Who has purple patent leather platforms? Not me, that's who. I feel powerful in heels, and the girl in the purple patent leather platforms was stealing my power! Even Roser commented.
"I can't believe with all the shoes in your closet you wore flip-flops out dancing." I can dance in heels, and walk in them. It wasn't worth the comfort to not feel like myself.
I still enjoy going dancing, but it's different than it was when I was younger. Then, I felt so free, and was able to surrender completely. While I was dancing nothing else existed. For those hours I was not thinking about anything. I don't think that's even possible anymore. Roser doesn't really enjoy dancing, so I am thinking about him, and whether he's enjoying himself. I still dance like a stripper, only now I am a little self-concious about it. I am a natural flirt, and I make an effort to tone that down. And there is also the fact that 75% of the people in the club are closer in age to my oldest son than to me. Once not long ago I was in a club with several of our friends. I was feeling so hip, (I know, use of that word by definition makes me not hip) because I knew all the songs that were being played. As I was sitting there swaying, and swinging my head to the music, it suddenly hit me, struck me so that I suddenly stopped moving as I realized, the reason I know all the songs is because it's the music my kids listen to! I suddenly was smacked in the face with the reality of my age. I am not 22. I am a middle-aged mother of four. Being young is not a state of mind, it is a fact of chronology. I think I'll start a support group for the chronologically challenged. We'll hold all our meetings in dance clubs.