Tiny Dancer

I met the Tiny Dancer during the demise of my Stalker Stephen phase.

It was August in NYC, my second month of living in the city or as I like to call it, the honeymoon phase. I still wasn't working, treating my time here as an extended vacation. Only instead of deciding what to visit and where my next culinary adventure was going to be, I was debating whether or not I had the extra $3 to by myself one of my guilty pleasure smut magazines, and had to settle for sunshine on my sticky asphalt coated rooftop patiently waiting for mother nature's sweet breath to wipe the sweat beads off my body. We obviously hadn't discovered Central Park yet hell I thought the East Village and Alphabet City were the embodiment of all things violent and crime ridden, oh the ignorance.

Officially moved in and unpacked, my roommate K and I decided to get out and explore. We headed downtown to this delectable little indoor/outdoor Mexican cafe. The kind that transforms itself in the summer time to open air, buzzing ceiling fans, loud chatter, and free flowing Sangria. We collectively gathered our friends and wedged ourselves into the few remaining seats on the community table. In walks the Tiny Dancer (we'll call him TD for short). We instantly hit it off after first meeting- he was handsome, funny and goofy, an extrovert, and had great style. I knew instantly he was gay, it was something about the way he moved and expressed himself. So, I opened up immediately and let my guard down because I was in a comfort zone, a safe place. Until he kissed me later that night. Oh right, not gay, huh. What followed was a few weeks of sweet gestures- flowers, thoughtful acts, spending whatever free time we had together (well, I had all the free time in the world so it was more like whatever free time he had). So far so good, right? Then came the boozing. TD loves 3 things, alcohol, dancing, and basketball. Very simple, some men are not these complicated creatures we are always trying to decode. It was after those few weeks that I realized I was dating a man exactly like my crutch, old habits die hard.

I am not a baseball hat and sneaker wearing girl. Not that there's anything wrong with that it was just never my thing, ever. TD felt that I needed some improvement and instead of accepting me for all that I am, which he was drawn to in the first place, he set out to mold me into exactly what he wanted. It started with little comments and requests. "Your jeans are too loose. Do you OWN sneakers? We should get you a cute pair of Puma's. (rather I should get, see he never really paid for much figured he would reap the benefits of my parent's support at the time) I like the way she is wearing her hair, maybe you should try that. I didn't really like the dress you wore on our first date (it was a gorgeous DVF green leopard print silk dress, I think it scared him a little? Or maybe he secretly wanted to borrow it.)" The list goes ON and ON! Then came the fighting. He claimed to never like to fight, but much like my crutch, he couldn't grasp that I'm not a jealous person and I don't like or need drama in relationships. It's misconstrued as not caring, as not passionate. Wrong. And, much like my crutch, he would act out and try to provoke those feelings of insecurity, because that's all jealousy is right? Insecurity? If he wasn't flirting with the bartender, or the friend, or the bathroom attendant, or even the framed photograph of a woman on the wall, he was finding the soft spots in my armor and jabbing at them, trying to break me down. I think that we've all experienced people like this in our lives. It's a form of emotional abuse and control. Creating arguments and fights, attacking instead of communicating, turning the tables so that you are the one apologizing, you are the one feeling stupid and over reactive, and in the end, the one walking on eggshells in avoidance of setting them off again. I remember saying on more then one occasion that he was exactly like the Crutch, but couldn't walk away. His idea of a compliment, which yes this really did come out of his mouth, was "Wow, your boobs look kinda big in this light." This overwhelmingly romantic event happened on his terrace late at night and he couldn't for the life of him understand how that would upset me. (I'm not so well-endowed in that department) I laugh about it now.

The dancing! Oh the dancing!! TD LOVED to dance, hence why I've dubbed him the Tiny Dancer. But we need to get one thing straight, no one dances better then TD, and he will challenge you to a dance off to prove it. So special. I love to dance too, but more for fun then anything else. After 3 1/2 years I was finally able to get over my insecurities of dancing in public. When I met him I loved it, didn't care if I was good, knew I wasn't bad, but every time he would scold me. "No! You can't dance like THAT to this beat! You look silly! You have to move your hips like this, your upper body is too stiff!" It goes on and on and on. Again, another method to break me down. We lasted 2 months, and he ended things with me. And it took me all of 1 month to be completely over it. I'll never forget the night I met his new girlfriend (they worked together so I'm about 99% positive she was in the picture before we broke up) it was classic. Let's just say, through observation, sometimes those VIP tables aren't very sturdy I once saw a very loud very drunk girl fall through one......