Holding her thigh with my left hand with my right arm wrapped around her waist, I gently pulled until our pelvis touched and constant connection can be felt. With only a hear beat as the lead we went down into the sexual dip, pausing at the lowest point for the imaginary audience to enjoy.

Without looking, I noticed that we got stuck somewhere because we didn’t end up as low as I thought. Then I said the most innocent of all things: “Huh, why can’t we go lower?” (I use “we” here because this is the most approximate of expression. In Mandarin, there’s a way to address such things without pointing out who or what it is). She got pissed and left, leaving wondering what the heck just happened. Later, I’d find that I insulted her by saying she wasn’t flexible enough.

What did I do back then in my confusion? I just shrugged and waited 20 minutes for the next girl to show up.

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Unfortunately for us, dancesport is a winter sport in Canada and because of the volatile climate, we often encounter snow storms in the open plains between cities.

I decided to stop at a road side hotel and pay the handsome charge of $70 a night instead of trying my luck on a road which I can no longer see. We had both made sacrifices for the weekend in order to travel to Toronto, she had skipped all her Friday classes and I had called in sick from my cellphone. We wanted to arrive at the competition a night before the so the stresses of the road doesn’t affect our performance. It looks like it will anyway.

Already, she’s complaining about the extra money we are spending for the room, add that to the $90 entry fee, $120 gas, $80 hostel fee for two nights and my one day’s paycheck, the weekend is adding up to a hefty sum.

I didn’t mind the complaining at all, it happened so often that I’ve grown numb to it. All that’s going through my mind at that moment was how much gas we have wasted because the tires keep on skidding in the snow. Am I going to have to fork out more money? How early do we have to wake up if we are to arrive and still have ample time to get ready: put on makeups, slip into our custumes, warm up all 10 dances and eat.
At the back of my mind, I registered her complain about the state of the hotel we are in and what a dump it is compared to a real hotel. I made a mental note that I should book an expensive suite next time to fufill her wishes, just so I can watch her reaction when she sees the bill.

The fact that we are sharing the same room always unsettles me. For me, sharing a room usually implies more intimate friendships or romantic relationship. That is not the nature of our relationship. I kept getting the urges to start discussing something profound, yet caught myself before I did because we have to sleep, in order to be ready for tomorrow. So we both went through the preparation for the night in silence, visualizing the routines we will be dancing the next day. Like business.

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