She Danced For Me

I was listening to
Brass in Pocket, by Chrissie Hynde and The Pretenders coming home today, and as always, it brings a memory.

When this song came out, I was working at the warehouse for a discount store chain. The job paid a bit more than minimum wage, which is generally what they paid for jobs at their store. There were several women doing the dirty work right there with us guys. It was a physical job - I lost a lot of weight whilst employed there.

One of the women was a simple, but nice girl. She had just had a baby boy, who's father had taken off. She found the best paying job she could to support herself and the kid - the work was harder, but she took home more. She had a glandular problem that made her smell. She was highly embarrassed about it, but she couldn't afford to do much about it.

So, she didn't get out much, and her social life was pretty limited, for a gal looking for a baby daddy. She made it clear she liked me. One day, we were alone. Brass In Pocket was playing on the radio, she started dancing to the song, and singing "I'm gonna make you, make you, make you notice...." and so on. Dancing, for me.

That was my clue. She had a pretty hot bod, long straight brown hair, a pleasant face and some crooked teeth. Really, she looked pretty good. The glandular thing didn't bother me - with proper meds, she would be fine.

Buuut, like I said, she was fairly simple. She wasn't dumb by any means, but having a conversation beyond whatever was on television last night was largely useless. I wanted more then and I do now as well. I could have been in her drawers quite easily, but my withholding commitment would have hurt her badly. She didn't need that. I had also discovered the maxim: Thou shall not dip thy quill in the company inkwell.

We both moved on - I transferred to the store they had in the same town so I could go back to college and work a better schedule. I saw her several years later, working at a Hardees. She had put on weight, found a guy, and had another kid. She seemed happy.

I think about opportunities lost once in a while. Would I have been able to live with someone like her? I still doubt it - I'm quite sure I'd have been cuttingly sarcastic with her when I got bored. My long suffering sister can attest to that. But, my success rate with the more "complex" women I've chased is exactly 0%. So what the hell do I know. Ahh well.

Sweety, whatever and wherever you are these days, I hope life has been good to you and you are happy. I'm sure you're better off without me. I hold the memory of you tossing your hair and your swiveling hips, singing the lyrics softly and pointedly to me quite fondly. A moment in time when you were at your best, frozen in my memory.