Hello, my dearest readers: Last night was fantasmagorical. Edgar Allen Poe made up that word, or so I gathered from reading a book. Awesome word though, no? Definition? Psh, come up with your own! But, you may ask, what in the world could make a normal Saturday night so cool? All that happened for me (that means you) was babysitting, or cleaning, or insert-whatever-you-did. Well.... I had my very first stake youth dance. Hallelujah! Ever since I found out that fourteen was the magical number for dances and stuff, my imagination positively sprinted away with me! Sometimes it is very stressful indeed to have such an imagination. I pictured me in a fabulous dress, being slowly twirled around a silent dance floor, looking up into the handsome eyes of some stranger, and feeling positively radiant. But then I started talking with other experienced adults, and I realized I would have to bring my hopes down fast, otherwise I would most certainly be crushingly disappointed with the outcome of my dance. So instead of fantasizing about a hawt male figure holding my hand, I pictured an empty, fluorescent-lit cultural center surrounded by awkward teens, trying to shove a conversation in the cracks of music, and me, being stuck on the sidelines, positively wilting. Nevertheless, sometimes my fantasies re-awoke the dreamer inside me and I was carried away momentarily on cloud nine, only to slap myself and think more realistically. So finally, the long-awaited for day came, and I got my dance card. Luckiest girl in the world, baby. Luckiest girl. I spent quite some time scrutinizing it and reading the instructions over and over. I even began planning what to wear, but that's typical me. Then the date for my first dance approached and passed, as I was stuck babysitting in the real world. But then March came along, and the date for my REAL first dance sped towards me. Yesterday was the day. It being Saturday, I had nothing at all to do. All. Day. Long. Misery and despair. But I entertained myself with the promising thought of my first dance and I started getting ready to go at four' o 'clock in the afternoon, even though the dance itself started at eight thirty. So I had time to take a majorly long shower, choose the perfectest outfit, and even pretend to take a nap! Then came crunch-time. Eat fast, brush hair once again, brush teeth meticulously, mouthwash until my mouth is numb and after the rest of the details I'm ready to go! Then the nerves set in. As my mom is driving me to the stake center, I start freaking out. What if I hurt myself, or step on a poor guy with my beautifulicious shoes? Or what if it isn't tonight? Aaaaahhh. But it wasn't the case, and I had so much fun. I danced with five boys, and there was a lot of line dancing which was ROCKIN'. The hamster dance was my absolute FAVEY-fave. The first boy I danced with was a small wee one, in a blue shirt and tie. It was his first dance as well, and we talked about why we both had to miss the February dance. It was fun, and after that, I snuck out to take off my shoes because they hurt my feets. Just my luck, because a few songs after I took them off this REALLY cute tall guy came up and asked my to dance. sigh... It was so, so cute because he actually apologized for being so abnormally tall! I giggled and said it was totally fine, internally kicking myself for being caught empty handed (or empty footed). He was the most gentlemanly dude I met that night, and he loves music. He plays guitar, and some bass clarinet. He is in the ninth grade at Poston, and sooo friendly. :DDD And another thing? He looked at me the whole entire time we were dancing together. Men: if you want to make the girl you are dancing with (or talking with, for that matter) really happy and not feeling like trash, just look at her. None of the other guys did that, and it was kind of disappointing. But hey, I'll just assume they were all so stunned that they had to look away or else be subject and slave to my beauteous eyes. Bahaha. The third guy was... hmm. Interesting. We played dance tag, where you go up to a random couple, touch them with your hand and say tag, no tag backs! Except he ran me all around the dance floor, tagging people. Whatever, crazy boy. The fourth guy was obligated to dance with me, because all the girl's threw one shoe into the middle of the floor and a guy had to pick it up and dance with the owner. So Gabe, the tall junior in high school picked me. We talked about Heritage for the whole time, because he knows a bunch of people who go there, even though he goes to Red Mountain. And for the last dance, the short kid's (the boy I danced with first) brother asked me to dance, so we did. And it was fun. I thoroughly enjoyed it, even though the beginning was kinda lame. But I can't wait to go to another one!!!!!!!