Birthday Date

Last night I celebrated my birthday with ex-boyfriend Joe. (Yes, I KNOW my birthday was nearly a month ago, but I DID tell you this was my birthday SEASON).

Joe’s my biggest blog fan so I can’t say anything really nasty about him (huge grin) but I couldn’t resist divulging the following.

While we were dating (5 years) one thing Joe introduced me to was Latin music and dancing. Frankly, I don’t know why there aren’t a zillion Latin clubs in L.A. ‘cuz the music is so infectious and salsa dancing is incredibly sexy. We loved to go to a place called La Masia in West Hollywood but then some rich snobby guys bought it out and turned it into a hip hop club. After that, we were hard pressed to find anywhere with which to replace it.

But recently, I was surfing the net and discovered a place called Mama Juana’s so we decided to try it. Arriving in Studio City (which is just over the pass from Hollywood) we parked and viewed the entrance with trepidation. It was basically just a door in a building. Looked like the place must be about four feet wide. Then I remembered the website said something about a steep staircase. Duh. We headed upstairs.

We were seated in a lovely booth one step up from the dance floor where a salsa lesson was going on. While we debated the difference between salsa and mambo, the instructor was teaching the male dancers how to twirl their partners. That’s when Joe made a fatal mistake. He pointed out that I always turn AWAY from him.

Hm, I thought. I wished he’d told me that before. Might have improved our dancing prowess. ‘Cuz, listen. We are NOT Fred and Ginger out there. Well, wait a sec. Joe THINKS he’s Fred. I’m quite aware I’m not Ginger. If you picture that John Hurely guy from that celebrity dance show on TV, you’ve got Joe to a T (minus the dancing talent).

After dinner, the band took their places on stage. All nine of them. We listened to a couple songs, then it was time for us to venture out.

Guess what? Every time we TWIRLED, Joe TWIRLED me AWAY from him. Turns out, I didn’t even have a CHOICE in the matter.

I love it when a man is wrong. I love it even more when the man is the source of the proof.

By the way, remember that blog about giving out your phone number to strange men in bars? Here’s a cautionary tale: I slipped outside to have a cigarette and got to talking to a guy who happened to be from my neck of the woods and he asked for my cellphone number. I demurred, as I always do. Then I got tired of saying no, so I reeled off what I thought was the number (who remembers their cell number?) Well, he hauls out his Blackberry and inputs the number and hits DIAL!!!! Thank God I’d made a big deal about having a hard time trying to remember it, ‘cuz it wasn’t the right number.

Yikes. Is this what guys do now?? They test you on the spot??