My friend’s roommate studies flamenco very seriously. Last night, she gathered a group to go see her teacher perform. Apparently, her teacher, Omayra Amaya, is one of the best in the world and comes from a famous family in flamenco. It was a terrific show, with all the intensity and passion of flamenco that I’ve seen before, but also a lot of humor (a scene lifted from Saturday Night Fever seamlessly integrated into a longer piece, for example). At the end, they brought some of their friends from the audience, who performed in bare feet and jean shorts. It felt like a private celebration that I was privileged to witness more than a performance.
And looking around the table, I felt incredibly proud of the ladies I’m friends with and the new friends-of-friends I’d met that night, all really smart, interesting, attractive, successful, and confident. Many of whom have recently found themselves single and/or lonely. But I suddenly felt, what’s to be sad about? My life is just fine.
It’s the third day of a three-day weekend. I’ve made some decisions about what’s important to me, I feel rested, my house is a lot cleaner, I joined a new gym and have already gone once, and now I’m going to go to the park with my work and finish it up. This is a feeling to hold on to.