I think I’m resentful of the fact that I can’t make any sustained involvement with a church or community work. Doubt, neuroses, and other little ground-crawling, multi-legged insects start crawling all over my brain, titillating my nervous system and the relationship falls apart… but I digress. The other day I tagged along with girlfriend and her kids when they went to a birthday party held at her church. There was contra-dancing and the usual smarmy request that we get up and dance. You know the person who knows that you really don’t want to dance, but feels like exerting their social influence. Nevertheless, we avoided dancing on this end of the week Friday and watched instead. I can’t help but wonder if my charming and lighthearted banter helped us smoothly slide out of participation.
Ray Ray Montoya: It’s my fault. She can’t dance without a partner, and I guess I’m that sourpuss that doesn’t want to dance.
Church Lady #23: Oh there are plenty of people up there. I’ll dance with her if she needs a partner.
Ray-Ray Montoya: Well, we don’t want to encourage same-sex dancing. It’s a violation or something. It says something about it in Leviticus.
Church Lady # 23: No, there’s same sex dancing. It’s fine
Ray-Ray Montoya: Well it just says something about it being an “abomination” or something like that.
Church Lady # 23: That’s intercourse.
Ray-Ray Montoya: ….
(Three seconds recovery time)
Ray-Ray Montoya: Oh, gosh, you’re right, sex; I’m always getting my rhythms and intimacies confused.
She called my bluff and said the word “intercourse” in church. She won.
Bravo good sir.
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