The road to the top is a hard fought battle through molten caves where if the victor is lucky, he might see his life flash before his eyes as his rival encompass him for one precise killing blow.
That’s how I feel right about now after being Social Dance Champion. I clawed my way to the top, only for no one to respect my legitimacy. People always harp on about Marco, and now that I think about it, maybe he really was the best and I had no chance of living up to those absurd expectations. I tried so damn hard, but now, I long to retire back to Los Kentuckos where only the illusion of past glory shines bright.
The party was fun, no doubt about it. I wanted to run things my way, and things went as smooth as luck would have them. I blessed the floor with two goals: get respect and get the girl. I can argue the former went as planned, and I can argue the latter was never meant to be. I led every dance and never left the dance, as expected. I showed up dressed to kill, as expected. I learned from my previous setup mistakes, as expected.
I returned home alone. As expected.
My two primary targets had very distinct styles, but left me with the same bitter taste in my mouth. Both tickled my fancy by being deviants; one of the real world, the other dance. One had a thing for my second banana and ended up having relations with my third banana. The other was just plain taken. The end result is the once proud Best Dancer in the World™ is heartbroken. Crushed. Defeated.
Now, I no longer want to dance. There were two goals, and one keeps eluding me, as it has in my other endeavors. The pain, the blood, sweat, and tears…all for nothing. Reason being? The game of life is all or nothing, no exceptions, even for recognized status.
I’ve been looking over my college status for next year, and I’m again looking at a surplus of units. I’m strongly leaning towards 21 units, eliminating dance from my schedule. Effectively walking away from the platform that has allowed me to become an urban legend. I’ll probably reconsider when I’m not at the edge of paying a late graduation fee and jumping ship to grad school a year early, but…this empty feeling is stronger than the will that permits it to exist. Usually, a rejection slides off my fingertips, like my partner when I signal for a spinout. Now, it clings to me like my partner who’s afraid to try new stuff because these are uncharted waters. Skibbedebebop. Much later.
Current Track – Goo Goo Dolls “Iris”