I have the song Last Night by the Strokes in my head.

An interesting night indeed. Okay, maybe not so interesting. Anyway, we went dancing.

Dancing with my friend.  My tall, beautiful friend who attracts men like mosquitoes to a bug zapper.  It was fun until the swarms of overly confident drunken males who believe they’re John Travolta’s disco love-children came strutting out.  There was one (or two or seven) who, without asking, started getting his groove on, slid up next to her and gently butted me out of the way.   I suddenly found myself without a dance partner and feeling foolish.  I glanced around like I was looking for someone or something and attempted to unassumingly slink off the dance floor.

You can only stand on the side and watch your friend get mobbed by the slobbering horny for so long.  I disappeared.  Outside - with the smokers. I don’t smoke, but it was better than standing there feeling like you have a gigantic “L” tattooed to your forehead.  At least outside you have the excuse of “just getting some air” instead of standing shamefully alone.  I chatted with one lonely little man who puffed away on cigarette and explained to me why he “just couldn’t quit.”   I spoke with the cute metro boy and his perky girlfriend.  Yay.  Eventually, my friend popped out the door, apologized and dragged me back inside.

We started dancing again until another stud came along with the hopes that the dance floor goddess was going to take him home.  I stayed out there for a few moments hoping I would not have to find a creative way of removing myself from the awkward situation, but no such luck.  This was getting embarrassing.  My friend came bouncing off the dance floor quickly this time. It seems Mr. McGropey Pants was a bit to touchy-feely for her liking.  Creep. Again, she was sorry, but what if he hadn’t offended her?

Once more we jumped around to techno-crap until our drink glasses were empty.  Headed to the bar for another refreshment - only this time I ordered a tall glass of ice water.  As I stood there sipping ny frosty beverage, a cute boy (I found out later he was 10 years my junior) approached. It was too loud for me to hear how he sparked up the conversation, but there was something in his eyes.  I am sure there was in hers too, but I could only see the back of her head.  They seemed to hit it off.  So much in fact they were still talking as I stood behind them quietly crunching on my last piece of ice. Soon my cup was empty.  There was nothing left to distract me from the fact I was yet again left to fend for myself.  I looked around and headed for the ladies room.

I washed my hands and chatted with a group of women who had left the kids at home with the dads.  Once they started comparing stretch marks, I emerged from the bathroom - somewhat amused, somewhat frightened.  My friend was there outside the door.  She apparently gave the boy wonder her number so they could talk later.  After all, she had to come find me. Again.

She talked me into going back into jive hell.   Trying to be a good sport, I threw on my fake smile and trotted along.  Not even.  No way. WTF? Come ON! Yep. For the 100^th time that night I was Mambo-ed out of existence.  Rolling my eyes and shaking my head, I walked away.  I stood at the edge of the dance floor leaning up against a post.  I sensed she was starting to feel bad, but it didn’t matter it was close to 2 am anyway - time to get the frick out of there.

I feel bad that my friend had to stop what she was doing to come find me throughout the evening (Okay, not that bad. It’s been three days and she already has two dates set up. She‘ll be okay.), but I’m not sure what I was supposed to do.  Stand there feeling foolish?  It wasn’t even the feeling of not getting the attention or wishing I wasn’t single or jealously of my friend, but the thought of people looking at you thinking how sad it is that you are standing there alone or how unfortunate you are.  People looking at you thinking, “I’m glad that isn’t me.”

It’s amazing how a few hours in just the right (or wrong) place can put things into perspective. I had really thought I was more secure, but I guess I was wrong.

I came across a quote from one of my favorite authors, Tom Robbins:

“When we're incomplete, we're always searching for somebody to complete us. When, after a few years or a few months of a relationship, we find that we're still unfulfilled, we blame our partners and take up with somebody more promising. This can go on and on--series polygamy--until we admit that while a partner can add sweet dimensions to our lives, we, each of us, are responsible for our own fulfillment. Nobody else can provide it for us, and to believe otherwise is to delude ourselves dangerously and to program for eventual failure every relationship we enter.”

I have to agree with him...

I am just out of a relationship of six months.  I had fallen in love with this person and thought everything was wonderful when all of a sudden and without warning, he pulled the rug right out from under me.  No explanation other than he can't help the way he feels. He didn't want to talk about.  He was done with our relationship and the phone conversation ended - that was it except for the email I sent to him letting him know how much he hurt me.  That was about a month ago and it's been a miserable month. 

Feeling better and for sh*ts and giggles (also at the advice of a friend) I filled out an online dating profile (the site shall remain nameless).  I wanted to see what kind of men were out there in the world of internet dating. I was curious.  I was matched up with seven men within a 120 mile radius (120??).  One of the seven - yep, you guessed it.  It was him.  My stomach turned and my eyes watered (I still feel a little ill).  After panicking slightly and searching the site, I was able to delete my profile.  Unfortunately, I was so unnerved it took about a half an hour to an hour to remove myself.  I hope against hope that he was not online within that time to see me pop up in his match bank (or whatever they call it). 

Should I really care if he sees that I have searched an online dating site? Is it just knowing that he is out there looking for someone else making me me feel sick?  He was the one that ended it after all. I should be allowed to move on and if he happens to be notified (in whatever form) that I am getting over him, is it such a big deal?

I just want to know why I am so worried.