Dancehall Queen

Happy Canadian Thanksgiving, everyone! And also a very happy birthday to myself this weekend.

Yep. Another year older, another year wiser, another year of random bullshit people try to pull.

One of my very oldest and closest friends, we’ll call him Rob, insisted on taking me out on the town to celebrate my age being a palindrome. Obviously I said yes because you can’t say no to Toronto’s gay village. Or to Rob. Let’s be honest, the boy has skills like a lawyer.

I got myself casually dolled up for the occasion and we met up with 2 of his other friends for dinner at a sushi restaurant. I swear to God our server had never seen black folk in her entire life before. She was so excited when we finished all our food and paid the WHOLE bill. Seemed like some kind of paranoid/post-traumatic stress disorder shit to me. That sushi was fucking delicious, though.

I’d be a liar if I said this was what we actually ordered

Our peachy little friendship crew headed over to the club, which filled up quickly half an hour after arriving. We were having a great time dancing away when a man who was dancing in close proximity to our drunken tomfoolery approached us. He first spoke to the other girl in our group and then came up to me.

“Hi! My name is (Dave)!”

“Oh hey, Dave! It’s nice to meet you! I’m Timmi!” I danced to the blaring club tunes as we exchanged conversation. Ain’t nobody getting in the way of me shaking my groove thing. I assumed he was gay anyway. I am yet to see a straight man walk up into a gay bar alone.

“I’m Colombian!” he gestured to himself as I noticed his heavy accent. So he was. “What is your background?”

“I’m Jamaican!” I screamed back over Rihanna’s auto-tuned wailing.

I figured that because this man also shared a non-Anglo Saxon North American background, he would just leave it at that. What in fuck’s name he said next I still can’t believe.

“Oh that’s cool! You don’t dance like you’re white!” he said with a big stupid grin smeared across his face.

Hold the fuck up. What?

“HIiiiiiiiiiiiiii! I’m Jenny!”

Ok, I know I don’t take a lot of photos but I know for damn sure the girl in the image above is NOT me. I don’t dance like I’m white? What the fuck is that supposed to mean, you dirty sack of shit? Was the light glaring from my teeth so much that you couldn’t tell I’m not white? It’s not like my name is Beyoncé Knowles or anything.

Listen, Dave. Sharpen some pencils and fall on them. Best birthday present ever.

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