“You’re going to get me in trouble!” She texted back, with flawless typing. Interesting. Picturing her now, she must have left the dance floor and taken some time to send it. I imagine her hips swaying, catching the eye of a man or two on her way to the bathroom. Her text could be playful, it could mean just as little and just as much as every other flirtatious response, or it could mean something different altogether.

However weak the gesture, she was giving me resistance. Could she want it to end? Most likely not, but I would have to be careful from here on out. It’s a dangerous thing, trying to sway the loyalty of a taken woman. A boyfriend of 5 years is no laughing matter. But I don’t like relenting, especially without good reason. “I want to get you in trouble and then I want to keep you there. Tell me, how many guys have you danced with tonight?”

Her response took a little awhile; apparently, she was having fun. But this didn’t concern me; if I were to have her it wouldn’t be on the dance floor. Instead, we play the waiting game until she’s alone, has exhausted all the temptations of the club and is lying on the bed of her lonely flat. “Only a couple. No one who excited me. God, I remember that night like it was yesterday. Do you?” As the text came to me, I sat up and smiled.