dancing with wine

I was almost nineteen years old when I discovered my love of dancing. The club was open from 1:30am-4am. I walked in, not knowing anyone. Music blasting. People drinking water and soda...some with coffee. Drunk patrons and high patrons, usually both. Small dance floor with mirrors all around. A back unfinished area where people can smoke or make out and whatnot. Lots of two by fours and wood beams. The room looked under construction. I may still look like it's under construction. This was Nebraska. I walked in completely sober. The first 10 times I went, I was sober. I didn't drink then. I just wanted to learn how to dance. So that's what I did. I watched and moved and danced. I don't care how I dance, as long as it feels good. Once I started drinking alcohol my dancing, let's say, became more interesting. A sweet night would end with dancing in my living room holding a bottle of red wine in hand. Alone. With a lover. With a group of friends. With family. With a cat. I think I'm liking cats again. I haven't felt this way for cats since high school.