Hold Fast

I'm posted up and I start to become a negative nancy.
I didn't hit the gym for a few days and so my emotions are all out of fuckin' whack. I don't feel the pleasant high of post workout bliss.
I start envisioning the negative things about what may happen once she gets there. Truth be told, the emotional roller coaster raged on the entire day not hearing from her.
I could berate myself for being such a pussy but that would also be unproductive so I ask myself what I can do NOW to adjust my state.

I start to dislike what I'm wearing, my outfit, that I won't look cool when she gets there.
I start to see the slippery slope of the abyss of self-doubt yawn before me.

I stop. I put those thoughts from my mind.
I don't shake all the negative emotions but I stop the monkey on the drum beating in my brain.
I take a deep breath and shake it out. I check my posture and body language. Adjusting it will actually affect your state emotionally. I don't know if it's true but it feels true so I do it.

She comes in and she looks devastatingly gorgeous. Some kind of snow angel traipsing through the hell of the modern dating scene.

I don't move a muscle.
Starfish move slower than I allow myself to react. In fact, I force myself through will to become more still inside.
He immediately goes over to where she is and starts talking to her.
She hasn't even set her coat down and he's blathering on.
I don't budge but rather peruse the room.
They dance and I find a dance partner to ward off my jealousy and insecurity in a coat of glib indifference and detached acceptance.
It may be my imagination but she's putting more distance between herself and him while they dance and he tries to pull her close.

She comes over to me and asks me to dance. By the length of half the song her head is on my shoulder and we dance close. I feel her petite frame pressed against mine and I breathe a deep sigh of relief and feel calm wash over me then settle for a brief moment.
She tells me she likes dancing this way.
We talk and dance again.
Another guy asks her to dance and she declines, though my face made it clear it was her decision.
I check my insides and reassert my frame that fuck this guy and motherfucker isn't shit to me. I reassert to myself that I must show no weakness nor neediness.

They dance again and he's pushy, it's obvious she's not really feeling it and I'm unsure how he blew it or where he crossed the line. I give it some time then I do something I normally don't....I cut in. She takes my hand and I can see her face awash in emotion, but she falls into me and we dance.
We kiss and I realize I had forgotten how soft her lips are.

I analyze him briefly out of base curiosity but there's this vibe he has, that many good male dancers of this variety have: this inner seething resentment. This "hate" for lack of a better word. I think it comes from neediness perhaps. They are a catty, douchey crowd to be sure. Hence why I rarely interact with them more than absolutely necessary. They're all fighting over the chicks like they're aren't a ton of awesome chicks here and certainly more than the average dating scene/venue. They're all so goddamned serious like it's the last party on earth and if you don't land a chick your bloodline will vanish or perhaps the fate of the human race depends on this night of competition and peacocking. It's overbearing and somewhere in there it clashes with girls' expectations of a fun, subtle night out where they "might just happen to meet" a guy while taking a dance lesson.

That, perhaps, that's it. They learned to dance out of this need to attract women and ultimately, deriving self worth from any one passion, you'll always feel threatened in that facet?

I don't know and I don't fucking care.
We dance and my lips are on her neck. I breathe in the scent of her hair, her hand clasps mine harder.
I talk far less than her. I let her paint the canvas. I revert to my slow burn python game which I've been told is crushing in its power.
I read it on the red pill yesterday and it's absolutely true, you must remain a bit of a mystery to a woman. The trick is the important part, the secret is worthless once people know it.

I'm glad for all my hours in the field and all the failed interacts with women.
Some guys have it naturally, others have to acquire it.
I just have to not fuck it up.
In the modern dating scene that can be difficult as it's a veritable minefield.
You have to break through all that other bullshit and it becomes two people drawn to one another with a silent whisper.

The night ends but I can feel she doesn't want it to.
Her eyes paint on my face how she'd like for it to end and I can feel it. Her mind elaborates how such a night will end once we've been seeing one another a bit longer.

I drive home and I sleep.