The Big One

I have decided to share the paraplegic dance story in its entirety with you guys. It needs to be told. It was thoughtless of me to only share a tiny morsel with you yesterday. Also, please don't pity Mr. Paraplegic too much. He really doesn't deserve it, and I'm willing to bet he doesn't want your pity anyway!
When I was 19 my brother Nate, a few other singles from our little branch and myself drove to New Hampshire for one of those single adult conferences you hear so much about in the church. Eager anticipation soon turned to horror and dread when we realized that we were BY FAR the youngest singles there. It was truly pathetic to see all of the middle-aged women there, hopes high, pen and paper in hand, hanging on every word that the "how to catch a man at a singles conference" speaker said. I told myself right then and there that I would never ever go to a singles conference again!
We hung in there until the final night of the conference. New Hampshire borders Maine, so as a special treat we were served fresh Maine lobster for dinner. I had never eaten lobster before and had no idea how to crack it open, what part to eat, etc. I tied on my lobster bib (yes, there were lobster bibs) and after receiving instruction on how to properly crack open my lobster from the other folks at the table, I took a small taste. There was this greenish stuff in my lobster, and I just assumed you were supposed to eat that too. I did, then dry-heaved and pushed my lobster away. A particularly eager man sitting at my table reached across, grabbed my lobster, and put it on his own plate. I was a little startled by this, but I guess that by pushing it away he assumed it was up for grabs. A Maine lobster should never go to waste, I suppose. I filled up on dinner rolls that night.
After dinner, most of the tables were put away and an area was cleared for the dance floor. My posse and I were enjoying a little people watching while seated against the wall. After a while I noticed a man in a motorized wheel chair sitting about 4 feet away, directly in front of me. He didn't say anything to me, he just stared. I wasn't sure what to do, so I just continued talking with my friends and sort of ignored him. After 10 minutes or so, he wheeled himself closer to me, and in a gruff, and might I add rude voice yelled "I can dance you know!" I looked at him in annoyance- there was no need to yell, he was right in my face after all. So I yelled back "I'm sure you can! I never said you couldn't!" He didn't say another word. He just sat there and continued to stare, so finally I asked "are you asking me to dance?" In the same gruff and defensive tone he shouted "yes!" In my own gruff and defensive tone I shouted back "I'd love to!" A slow song was playing, so I sort of stood next to him awkwardly waiting for the song to change. You know the rest. As luck would have it, the next song was "Footloose." I looked back at Nate in horror, and he had a huge grin on his face. I walked out to the dance floor, and my "partner" began to click the button on his wheelchair furiously! He moved from side to side in quick, jerking motions. I wasn't sure what to do! Do I sit in his lap? Do I force him to scoot over and share the seat with me? What do I do?!?!? I decided just to grab ahold of one of the arm rests, and just go with the flow. As I mentioned before, the wheelchair was just sort of jerking from side to side, so I held onto the arm rest and snapped my fingers and swung awkwardly from side to side in time with the wheelchair. When my moment of complete humiliation was over, Mr. Wheelchair just turned himself around and wheeled on to his next victim/dance partner. I felt so cheap. So used! All that drama, and not even a high five for a dance well done?And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I will never, ever go to another singles conference. I don't think my heart could take the disappointment.