If you asked us how we met, and you’d get two different answers.
I’d say, “We met dancing.”
My Chinese-American fiancé Andy would say, “We met at a bar.” He’d assume a nonchalant air, but you’d see his chest puff out, just a bit, as if to say, “I’m a player. That’s how I roll, scooping up white girls at the bar, every Friday night. I have moves. No woman can resist.” Continue reading You Can Dance, If You Want To. If Not, They’ll Make You. (#43)