It finally happened. I lost 270 pounds. It took me three and a half years but I lost the extra weight. Robert and I broke up.
This blog is not going to smash him. In fact, he is a really great guy and I am a really great gal but we are not great together.
So hence the beginning of the being single stories.
I was out drinking in a bar (isn’t that how all good stories start?) and I scope out the good dancer in the place. It is a talent of mine. I can always find the best dancer in the joint.
This particular night, the best dancer happens to be a young college guy that has had way too much to drink and is slapping his guy friends a$$. I think this guy is gay and when I ask him, he declares his name to be …. Well, I couldn’t really hear his name but I heard his last name as Faggot. (I’m serious. These are his words, not mine.)
Since he is gay, I quickly answered, “Yes” when he asked if he could lift me. Two beats later, he grabs my hips and picks me up. It felt pretty natural to wrap my legs around his waist. He begins to dip my head and I feel like I am riding a rodeo bull.
This is where the fun begins. In between drinking and dancing, I may squeeze in a ride or two. But for now, jumping around on the dance floor sounds like more fun.