Sunday, May 06, 2007

Dance Like There Is No One Watching

Dance Like There Is No One Watching

It is another night, another bar, this time a leaving party.

I am sitting at the side of the room doing girl-band-arm-moving dancing when M prods me.

I turn to face her and she points in the direction of the rest of our group who are still on the not-quite-dance-floor. I look at them.

In their midst I see History Boy. Dancing. It is an angular mini explosion, all arms and legs. I can't help but smile.

"And that is your future husband" M says smiling at me.

This is, of course, not true. Everyone (except maybe the man himself) knows that David Tennant is my future husband.

I shake my head, aware there is not much I can do to stop the fairy tale that has been written by our friends. But it is just that - a fairy tale. I wonder for a second what History Boy thinks about all of this, wonder if he knows the extent to which we are being watched, our every move noted and scored.

- And whilst I am here it would be dishonest of me not to wonder what he would make of his erstwhile blog counterpart -

M continues to smirk.

I sit, torn.

Oblivious to his audience, History Boy continues to dance.

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