Then you can't shut me up.
I never approach strangers or speak unless spoken to out of concern that I may offend or annoy.
Yet, I love to engage in a little barroom voyeurism; to sit back and watch others having the time of their lives.
And I love a good party... in almost any form.
My journey beyond the dark oubliette of my little Mole Person hole began with me growing a pair... Of steel-clad ovaries, that is. I decided: I love dancing, I love music on the dark end of the spectrum (though most of my friends don't), and I ain't geriatric, yet, so I'm going clubbing, even if I have to go alone!
And that's just what I did.
Over the past year and a half, I've met some really friendly people, and, although most of them are only in my life for one night (stop snickering, you perverts), I still remember them with a smile.
So when I cruise the 'net, skimming through club listings or Crackbook or StalkerSpace, I get a kick out of rediscovering these friendlies all over again.
On my first solo clubbing adventure - Sept. 2006 in Portland, OR - a charming gent broke my 'stranger barrier' and struck up a conversation:
"Shaun.... Like 'Shaun of the Dead'."
I like him already.
I don't know anything about him, except what he chose to tell me (helloooooo uniform fetish). For all I know, he could be a serial killer named Bubba. But, he made me laugh, which made my first solo experience at a goth club a positive one.
Thank you, Bubba.
You made my night brighter and extroversion a hell of a lot less intimidating.
You made my night brighter and extroversion a hell of a lot less intimidating.
And I think I see him in this one, too.....
It's like a digital age "Where's Waldo"......
(See, this is why I try to avoid having my picture taken: You never know what loony with a blog is gonna share you with the world.)
Ha ha.
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