Dance with me

So my lovely latin love has wanted me, for some reason, to write about me dancing before I met her. Not sure why, but here it goes. Nena Bonita, this is for you.

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FACT: Xander likes to dance.

And when I say dance, I mean really dance. Hip hop, grinding, freaking, even Salsa. Though I may not be able to actually Salsa, I can at least fake it, or try for that matter.

I can dance for hours, with anyone, if motivated enough. Before my fiancee, back when I was 22-23, there was one girl ever on this EARTH who could keep up and give me a run for the money: Rachael.

I remember when I first saw her: a skinny buxom blonde in a white tank top and tight jeans, dancing around the dance floor of FBC(A bar/club I used to go to) like a girl from a 50-cent video. I noticed though many guys were watching this cute, skinny, blonde, nobody danced with her.

Well, I asked her to dance. She accepted. And she tore, me, up!

I could barely handle her.

My thighs, my legs, my knees, even my ankles, hurt very bad. But like a Cowboy trying to tame a bucking bronco, I refused to break away.

Believe it or not, I didn't hook up with her. She lived a very crazy life, and I didn't want to be dragged into it. I don't care how good she danced or how hot she was. I had limits.

Now, my fiancee doesn't seem to believe me. Here in America, we dance sexy. That is just how it is. Oh well. She will learn eventually.

Til next time,

Xander, out.