That moment when I entered the bar, I felt what virgins probably felt like when they are about to get laid: awkwardness.
Everything felt like it was a first when it really wasn’t — except for the fact that I’m doing this again after a very long time.
Should I walk slow? Chin up? Hands on my pocket? Grab a Vodka Sprite or a Jack Coke, or maybe a Gin Tonic? Should I smile or smize? Wiggle my hips or sway my shoulders? Grab a friend on the shoulder or wait for someone else to grab mine?
Were people looking at me? Or was I looking more at them?
I felt uncomfortable.
If I don’t do it now, will I ever get the chance to do it again?
Everything felt unreal — the flashing lights, the glass of alcohol on my right palm and while I wave up my left fist. I was in the presence of friends, but somehow I also feel alone. I was in fact dancing on my own.
I was in the moment, but also felt detached. From this world. From the present. From my presence.
It wasn’t good nor was it bad. It just had to be. My about last night.
