Hey Folks,

I’m retelling this story because my girlfriend gets such a kick out of it and I promised I’d share it one day. We were still in college so don’t hold it against us, we’ve grown since then.


Greg and I had only known one another for a week, during that time we’d going out to dinner and we’d met each others friends and so on. My cousin, Tamika, invited us to go out with four of her friends…Greg, in turn, invites two of his teammates; he played lacrosse and football and needless to say his friends were HOT!!


Anyway, Tamika had gotten us passes to one of the hottest clubs going….think P-Diddy hot. We’re going dancing and I’m panicking because up until then, I’d never seen Greg dance. He’s an unapologetic WASP…no “White-Chocolate” about him…my baby is a WASP…a damn fine one with a kick-ass body but still a WASP.

Surprisingly, neither he nor his buddies are beset with dread. I’m a dancer, been one for years, “I have two days to teach this dude how to dance. I’m pushing it”.


So every second up until departure was focused on teaching him the latest moves or some semblance thereof. I figure the lights will be low so he can fake it. It was like Ann Sullivan and Helen Keller, I was The Miracle Worker…I’m teaching here people! But, alas, it was hopeless. He had no rhythm and thrashed about like a baby seal being eaten by a toothy shark—arms and legs everywhere. My strikingly beautiful man was a flop.


Totally defeated, I wanted to cry, I wanted to stay home, but more importantly I wanted to party. I thought maybe if I dress him up nicely people won’t realize there’s blood on the dance floor.


So, we make the fantastic voyage to the club which proved to be as diverse as our posse. We walk in, it’s crowded, and the music is pumping. We round the bar, threw back a drink and hit the dance floor. Greg’s friends, two very tall White guys, are dancing their asses off, I mean they’re jamming! I turn to Greg expecting to see his face awash with fear….Hell no, he’s throwing down—Usher could’ve taken lessons from him. He was showing out, y’all! Every female on the floor moved in. I quickly corrected that. Back up bitches, he’s mine.


For two straight hours Greg Ames danced circles around me. At one point my mouth literally fell open from sheer exhaustion and I left the floor with my hair jacked up and pouting. He continued turning it out for least another hour. I later found out he was versed in most forms of dance…hip hop/street being his favorite.


Sneaky Bastard!! When I say he can dance, I mean he can put it down! I was embarrassed, my hair and makeup were beyond redemption and to this day my girlfriends still laugh about that night.


In hindsight, there were a few red flags:

- The security guard didn’t ask for our passes. Greg smiled and we were in!
- Greg knew the exact location of the coat-check room.
- He bobbed his head in perfect sync to the music when we came through the door.
- In bed, he could do that hip roll thingy, sorta like dumping and grinding.
- He had a pair of Adidas Shell Toes!
- Right next to his collection of Mozart, there was a Dr. Dre CD.
- Whenever “Mo Money Mo Problems” would come on, he’d throw his “Rollies in the sky and wave‘em side to side...”


The moral of this story is: Don’t be fooled! WASP can dance!