LeighMo's bit of heaven (or hell)

I have a knack for repetition. No matter the song, I can sway along to the tempo, moving in predictable steps, twirling with a partner until the song breaks and we part ways. I do this all with no thought; Fred Astaire himself could be channeling himself into me for all I know.

It is a dance I have been doing my entire life, with various partners. Meet boy. Like boy. Make boy crazy. From there, we move from the calm and ethereal waltz to a more spazzoid dance form....paranoia sets in. The low self esteem takes over, and I become THAT girl. The one that starts to question every move, every word, until I become that which I detest....drama. The drama dance is best done solo, I've discovered. It is very hard for boys to do, I suppose.

My current partner and I are swaying quite nicely. He calls when he says he will; he is an endless supply of fascinating factoids, and proof that not all men are just looking for a mom to take over where the birth one left off. I honestly don't know his opinion of my physical presence, but I do know that he appreciates my mind, and my attitude, and my company. Should be smooth sailing, but yet, I hear the tempo of the drums picking up--maybe I'll just teach this one, rather than punching his dance card and sending him on his way.