Hey, it’s Mark*
You might know me from a previous story here. I’m back with a one-off story this time while I decide which larger story I’ll write about in the future. This one just felt perfect for Valentine’s Day. As per usual, all names and distinct features are altered to preserve anonymity. Also, dialogue did not actually take place in English, so I’m translating/paraphrasing.
**Story:**
So one lonely Saturday night (about a month ago actually), I was pretty damn bored and decided I’d just go out and hit the club. It’s something I seldom do despite actually really enjoying it because it can get pretty boring alone and as mentioned before I don’t really have friends. This also means that most of my club experience comes from going with a girlfriend and as a result I absolutely suck at getting women on the dance floor. I’m much better when they’re at the sidelines or sitting at the bar because I can actually talk to them there. But I also really just enjoy dancing and would claim to be quite good at it, so I often just do that alone in the crowd and if I’m lucky, I might meet the rare specimen that goes up to men on their own accord (this differs from country to country, my home is rather conservative).