“You can’t touch me there!”
Wow. That just happened.
We danced for the last 30 minutes, then she hit me with that. It’s not like I grabbed her pussy or anything. My hand went right below her hip bone. She absolutely freaked out. Could have known from before when she accused me of grabbing her ass, which I did, and she accused me of that too, but I went on as usual (like I have been when I decided to let loose and not let my social anxiety get in the way of having a good time). As soon as she said that, something didn’t sit right. I probably read it right from the beginning: she was a fucking feminist.
At first, it didn’t matter. My buddy (and his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend) kicked it, while watching that band. We just came from bowling and had a damn good time. After the concert, in which I talked with a few women, they started playing rap. If you don’t know who I am, well, you should know that I love dancing to rap. Something about it — maybe it was because I grew up in a predominately black area — just makes me really want to let loose. Well, I did and eventually pulled that chick in. She had a smaller friend (height wise) and seemed to want me to dance with homegirl, so I did. I grabbed her ass once and she spun around and told me in no certain terms that I’m not allowed to touch there. Well, that just means that I will be doing that throughout the night that we’re hanging out bitch.
So I danced with both and it was going all right until that fateful moment. I slid my hand to the inside of her hip (outside of her pants) and she flipped. A guy next to us (probably a White Knight) separated us (even though there wasn’t a reason to do so) and said his piece. She went on about something, but I brushed it off. Two minutes later, she was back dancing on me before her friend pulled her away and they went outside. Yeah, so all that for still dancing with her. Huh?
Eventually we all bounced outside and I ran into her again. Our relationship was strained and she wished me well driving home (since I was clearly drunk to her). After a short conversation, I brushed her off and let her go on her way. Be real.
If she doesn’t want me putting my hand where it was, I don’t want it anyway.