Don't Stand So Close To Me

Woah, woah buddy! Just 'cause my butt is not blocked and nobody else is up on it doesn't mean you should pull up quick to retrieve it. Baby got a back slap for you, Creepo.

On Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, or Saturday night I am inclined to go out to the bars with my friends. As we boogie on the dance floor I'm hesitant to be completely carefree. As I slowly sip on my grown-up drink and am surrounded by my girls, my concerns are: where's my butt, who's looking in my direction and who's lurking around.

I'm usually doing my signature dance moves or music video dance moves on the floor with the deafening music while standing in a circle with my friends. While enjoying this bonding time some random guy will come up and just start trying to grind with me. No asking if I would like to dance. He is just standing in my dance space, so close that he is practically polluting his lungs with my Garnier Fructice hair products. I don't know you buddy and I've been taught not to talk to strangers, let alone dance with them. Fun dancing fun, mambo, cha cha, salsa, macarena are all fine to do with unfamiliar men. Rubbing up against my back and butt is a bit uncomfortable. Especially when I didn't get a good look at the face, it's not always okay with me at the local bar. In my book, there is a double standard I do admit, as I'm sure other ladies also hold. However, right now I'm talking about creepy lurkers who are out there to grab an ass. To this type, ass is to bar as candy is to candy shop.

The guy who approaches a circle of dancing girls just makes things quite awkward. I never know if I should save my friend or if this is what she wanted. On that note, I'm terrible at saving my friends from a grinder. I'm never really sure how to go about the rescue and not seem obvious as to make things awkward or give off the idea that I'm feeling left out and want to join their two person surprise party. Instead I usually make some confused faces and kind of laugh and slightly back off. My favorite and most used rescue line when I put effort into being the hero is, "I think my friend here has to throw up" ::turn to the friend:: and ask her, "Don't you have to throw up now?" It's worked twice in the same night with the same two people. In short, I'm a bad friend on the dance floor.

Personally, I usually attract the 20 or 30-something year-old guy with the creepy gaze and gait. I also tend to attract the old fellows and occasionally homeless looking guys. Why older men, who look like they can possibly have a 5-year-old of their own are at a college bar is bothersome to me. That breed should be at another bar or be at home reading "Goodnight Moon."

I've gotten good at detecting when I should relocate or turn my butt to a trusting friend. My spidey senses tingle and I can usually smell heavy cologne or garbage approaching--the scent of my fans.

The basics success rules for these guys are simple. Look presentable, smell decent, be of a reasonable age, introduce yourself, have a little decent conversation and get some sort of consent to be on my tush. Guys, let's just nip the whole awkward situation of making five girls feel uncomfortable at once and you getting publicly humiliated while some hip-hop song is playing in the bud. Oh, and the loophole of a guy introducing himself to the bootay owner that he is dancing on randomly for 1.4 minutes does not count. Still a stranger danger.

Good luck with dancing the night away.

Pool Party

It's summer time and that means attempting to work on my tan. Well, I haven't had a noticeable glowing tan in probably a year. My complexion more so resembles Casper the Friendly Ghost. I went through two summers in a short time-- one when I went to Australia in February 2009 and one when I returned to the United States in July 2009-- and remained pale both times. After time in the sun, I turn a beautiful shade of tomato red. Then after a few days it turns into uncooked meat pink, then finally I go back to being a totally envious shade of vanilla frap. Once my limbs actually blended with the white bottom of the pool. It was scary looking down and seeing almost nothing. Cool magic trick though. Well, when it's sunny outside and I have the down time, I slather on my SPF 30 obsessive compulsive style as if it's a fashion statement. Every 15 minutes I must reapply to my face and shoulders. I also consume water like a fish with a drinking problem.

During this glorious time by the pool or in the sand at the beach there is an awful species that brings about an unpleasant and uncomfortable presence. The speedo wearing male. I know this attire is popular in Europe and they're beneficial to swimming speedy laps, but yuck. Everybody sitting around can see every curve and crack. Even young men who have chiseled abs and happen to be part of an extremely skilled sports team enabling them to have a glorious toned form need not show the outdoor community their man bits. As a woman you just can't help but shift your eyes to it. Sadly, and at the risk of sounding cruel, the worst are elder men. If they're married their wives, should maybe stop them at the door and say, "honey, sweetie, sugar lips, do not wear that nautical themed bikini bottom...please."

If you see a familiar elderly neighbor wearing a banana hammock at the pool, there's no mystery and no need to ask, "Hey Mr. Wilson, how's it hangin'?" because you can already see his answer will be "it's long, shriveled and hanging to the left." I'll be swimming in a lap lane and a male sporting a speedo will be standing over my lap lane preparing to jump in. I do graceful flip turns when those situations occur.

Another unpleasant aquatic situation is swimming with the hairy back male. More specifically, swimming with the species in the wave pool at the water park. You come up for air after a wave crashes over you and you're just surrounded by more hair than is on your young little girl head.

After I'm done barbecuing myself, in most cases, I have to walk through the locker room to leave the vicinity. Every time I enter the ladies locker room, I always have to enter slowly. Why? Because I know, for a fact--because it's happened 95 percent of the time--that I will enter in on a completely nude lady. I enjoy being naked just as much as anyone else, but I practice naked alone time as opposed to public naked time. Yes, it's a locker room and the purpose is to dry off and get dressed and I have those same body parts, but I always walk in on everything. Full frontal and usually untamed. The word is shocking. I'm just not prepared to see a naked ol' butt in my line of vision. Maybe the older you get the more comfortable you are with being naked like that. Maybe it should be considered a perk with getting older. Nobody will say anything about it or tell them to put it away. I know little kids love being naked too. Heck, I did from what I hear. That's not as shocking though. Maybe I'm taking a break from being publicly stark naked and I'll be back to that phase in years to come.

On that note, happy swimming. Remember to wear your floaties and keep your eyes averted.