|Drunk Duck & I may or may not have watched Latin Explosion this morning.|
I am not ashamed to admit that I am a Ricky Martin fan.
I used to be a little shy about admitting that. Sugary pop music is never cool to like. Throw in the gyrating hips of a gay, latin man to the sugary pop music mix and even little children are all, dude, really?
Hey, annoying little children, go fuck yourselves.
I like to shake my bon-bon, dammit.
The funny part, long before he came out and everyone actually argued about his sexuality (which is always in itself amusing considering the people arguing - man or woman - had literally zero chance of ever discovering firsthand what Ricky preferred. I'm saying, he wouldn't fuck you with my dick and your mom pushing.) in the mid to late 90s when a Ricky Martin song came on the dance floor filled with women and only the most intrepid of guys. So, in a very real way, Ricky Martin was an EXCELLENT wingman.
So men, the lesson, if you don't dance, the guy who does has a much better chance of going home with the girl you have your eye on.
And that is a 100% true story.
I will never understand men who say, I don't dance.
Also, I want to go dancing.