Mr. Monotone

"So, I have this extra ticket to a play because my friend cancelled. Would you like to go?"
Dumbfounded silence on my part because I had only danced with the guy twice.
"Think about it. It's at (very close to my home). Otherwise I'll have to go by myself."

I thought about it, and decided to meet him there. Going to a play alone can suck, it was near my house, and since he was at least 15 years older than I, it couldn't possibly be a date.

Of course, once I got there, I realized it was a date, and had to pull the "Gotta get home early to feed the dog/cat/piranha or else they'll poop on the floor/scratch up the couch/strip the flesh off a cow in 5 minutes" excuse.

Two weeks later at dance class...
"I had a really good time with you."
Ok, from the guy who said, "The play didn't feel too long. It passed the time," as if death were right around the corner and had to be waited for patiently. Occassional activities weren't for pleasure, but to kill time before the descent into the eternal abyss.
"Thank you. It was very kind of you to invite me to the play."
"Would you like to plan something again?"
"That's sweet of you to ask, but I'm dating someone."

Two weeks later at dance class...
"Maybe we can meet for coffee sometime."
I pretend that the music is too loud for me to hear him, smile politely, and beat it with my dance shoes still on. I walk rapidly to my car, figuring that since the music is still playing and that most people take the time to change footwear, I can make a clean getaway.

Tap tap tap. Unbelievably, he's at the window. I roll it down an inch.
"This is your car? I thought you had a green one."
"Nope. Gray. Have a great night!"
I smile tightly and drive away.

Two weeks later at dance class...
His first words: "Do you barbeque?"
I think, what the hell random boy, at least a hello if you have to talk to me, but my mother's etiquette lessons are too deeply ingrained, so I respond politely and accept his invitation to warm up to a song before class. After the dance, I leave the floor and walk across the room. Although escorting a follower off the floor is polite, engaging her in conversation after the dance while there are unpartnered followers is bad form. He follows me to the seats.

"So are you still dating someone?"
I am, but someone new, and I certainly could date others and could have dated others with the last guy, but I choose the glazed smile and say,
"Yes, I am."
"So I can't call you?"
"Not for dating!"
He smiles at me blankly. "So, do you barbeque?"