I am the Dancer.
The front room had some pretty decent music pumping, but I walked into the backroom of the Ossington, and noticed there wasn’t any music playing. I asked a girl next tome and it turns out it was private party. She was explaining something to me when allofasudden I notice to people staring at me as they approached me. I didn’t recognize them, and I thought they were looking at something else, but as they closer, I realized they were definitely looking at me.
“Are you the dancer?” the guy goes, with his female friend in tow.
I had no idea what they were talking about, and I’m pretty sure my face said. The strangers I had been talking to are looking at me now, wondering ‘is he famous?’
“um. What? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
It crossed my mind that because it was a birthday party, maybe they had ordered some ridiculous male stripper dancer. Except, I’m definitely not the stripper looking type. And I found it all the more peculiar that I would even suggest that idea knowing very well what I do, do not look like.
“You’re the dancer. I know you are.” The guy said this as he passed, and patted me on the shoulder, his friend wide eyed as she passed. His tone was confident, so sure that he knew I was right, and he passed on without making a fuss as if saying ‘don’t worry dude, your secret is safe with me.”
He leaves, and my friends like “What the fuck?”
My notion exactly.
***
Later on I’m back in the front room, having a little dance, having a good time, when the guy comes back to me, putting on his jacket. He came over to say goodbye like he was my friend, and I reciprocated his brotherly handshake, only realizing after we’ve locked hands I didn’t know who he was. I had already forgotten what had happen just earlier.
“Have a good night. I know you’re the dancer.” His friend is standing a few feet behind, smiling.
“Dude, what is this you’re even talking about? What’s this dancing shit?” I ask him.
“You’re that guy in the video, you’re that dancer man. I know you are. what’s your name?”
“Jason.” I show him my belt buckle for proof. For the first time the buckle has had a purpose other than holding my pants up. I show him my belt buckle thinking he’d for sure believe me, that I wasn’t whomever he was talking about.
“Aww, I know you’re the guy. You have a good night man. Good night dancer.”
So what’s a guy to do? I said goodnight, and I woke up this morning scouring the vast archives of YouTube with various search iterations trying to find some intriguing video of a large asian guy dancing.
This was the closest thing I could find.
If they didn’t mean that one, they probably meant this one.
I’m second from the middle left right side.