Saturday night was an interesting one.

My mood was joyous and my determination was through the roof.

Nothing could stop me from having a great time.

Or so I thought...

You see, my favourite dance studio was celebrating 10 years in business.

And since I'm a regular, I was given an invite.

As soon as I got there, everything was exquisite.

I was escorted past the aggressive looking bouncers, gave my name to the flirty checklist chick and went upstairs to the party.

When I got there, the show was well underway.

My dance teacher was giving a speech with his business partner (a gorgeous dancer with fiery red hair) at the end of the room.

The crowd was heaving with people and despite being one of the tallest guys there, I could barely see them.

He got emotional after watching a video his team compiled of the journey the dance studio had gone through.

And then I saw her.

A woman so beautiful my jaw forgot how to close.

How could such a beautiful human exist?

I couldn't believe my eyes and had to ask a bloke next to me to pinch me.

He did, and it turns out I wasn't dreaming.

Moments later, my mind was blown even further.

This girl, along with 7 other femme fatales, glided onto the stage and performed the sexiest dance I've ever seen.

But it wasn't just sexy.

It was immaculate.

There's something about the heels dance that's incredibly impressive.

Not only is it beautiful.

It combines aesthetic desire with skill.

Needless to say, once the show was done I had to find the nearest balcony to get some air.

I didn't care that the air was filled with cigarette smoke.

I needed to cool off.

After the performances were over, I made my way back downstairs with a nervous anticipation.

I knew the woman of my dreams was somewhere in the building.

And once I found her, my task was simple:

Confess my undying love and make her mine for the rest of eternity.

Easy enough, right?

I entered the hall where everyone was dancing and I proceeded to scan the room like the terminator.

I scanned and scanned, but couldn't identify my target.

After a while, I decided the best course of action would be to bust a few moves on the dance floor until she inevitably showed up.

My hips were thrusting.

My chest and shoulders were pumping.

And my neck was swinging more aggressively than a giraffe having a fight.

Amidst all this energy, I saw her.

She was standing on the periphery of a circle and was hyping up one of her friends.

In the dancing sub culture, it's common for people to form circles and have one person freestyle in the center.

Someone had just left and there was an opening.

This was my chance.

I locked eyes with my target, lifted my finger to make it clear that I was looking at her, and then motioned her into the circle.

She looked at me for a few seconds.

Blinked.

Then turned around in utter disgust.

My heart broke into a billion pieces.

How could she treat me so thoughtlessly?

How could she do this to me?

My mind began to groan in agony and I had to use every ounce of energy not to burst into tears on the dancefloor.

I could feel the nervous sweat coming out of my brow and trickling down the side of my head.

I even reached for my phone and pretended to get a text message.

No one else saw what happened, but I felt as though everyone saw me make an absolute fool of myself.

Although no words were exchanged, this was the most brutal rejection of my entire life.

She looked at me like I was some inferior subhuman scum.

Definitely not what I was going for (lol).

I told my dad about it yesterday and he tried to reassure me, saying that I may have misinterpreted her response.

Possibly.

I don't see how the love of my life, a girl I only saw a few minutes ago, could not reciprocate my burning love.

Either way, I'm going to the studio tonight.

It's going to be funny if she's there, looking at me with the same disgust she had on Saturday night.

Who knows? Maybe she'll look at me with the same hunger for love that I had.

We'll have to wait and see.

Whatever happens, I'll be sure to let you know about it.

Peace out,

Godfrey