After working up my courage for three or four songs, I finally approached the attractive young man also looking out of place sporting Converse sneakers at a country and western dance hall. With a tap on the shoulder and a, "I like your shoes," our very brief conversation began. Immediately, I got a gay vibe from him. He didn't ask me to dance and I didn't ask him, and our conversation soon halted. He turned a smidge back towards his friends, and I quickly turned out and walked back to mine without even saying good-bye. Which I guess wasn't too rude considering that we had never said hello.
I don't know how guys do it. Err, at least sober guys. The drunk ones seem to have no trouble flirting, as they forget or mishear my name and call me "Debbie" and "Casey." Just the idea of asking someone to dance, not expecting more than a dance, makes me nervous. Sometimes I wish I were a guy and had the opportunity to be more forward with the opposite sex, but often I realize that it's harder than it looks, taking a certain gutsy vulnerability that I sometimes possess.
Looking back, I wished that I'd stayed and introduced myself to him and his friends. They seemed like a good bunch, just a group of friends having fun together, like my friends and I were. We probably would have found some things in common. Oh well, I'll keep dancing and keep my eye out for other fellow Converse souls and keep myself open to more possibilities of friendship and romance.