The Tator

Finding love at She-Nannigans

More stories from Alyssa Anderson

Getting Weird
December 13, 2018
The Tator

This article is satirical and is not meant to be taken seriously. It does not reflect the views of The Spectator or UWEC. 

I’m not much of a romantic, I’ll be honest. I always assumed I could be happy on my own without the undying love and devotion of another human. I’ve never been the type of person to daydream about finding ‘the one’, planning a perfect Instagram wedding and naming my future children or whatever — until now.

Last night I might met soulmate.

To take a break from our studies, me and a group of my fiercest gal pals decided to break open our Naked eyeshadow pallettes, put on our best Goodwill outfits and go out on the town. As the night progressed, I started to feel the urge to do something I only do when I’m really feeling myself: dance.

Trying to be a true dancing queen in Eau Claire is not an easy feat. Despite the existence of at least 50 eclectic coffee shops, this city only has one place you can really get your groove on. That place is She-Nannigans.

As the name suggests, She-Nannigans is a place of utter lawlessness. Stepping into ‘Nans is a risky move, but I was itching to get on a dance floor. After rounding up my ladies, I led the pack into the dark, jam-packed building and found a prime spot on the dance floor.

It took me a while to warm up to the scene, but once “Low” by Flo Rida came on, I began to let loose. I had picked a great day to wear my apple-bottom jeans.

There I was, bumpin’ and grindin’ along to the beat, when I felt it: out of nowhere, a hand began to graze my thigh. And then, just like the first one, a second mystery hand began to grab my waist. Jackpot.

When I’m minding my own business with my friends, there’s truly nothing better than getting grabbed from behind. Honestly, I was beginning to worry why it was taking so long for someone to make their move. How else am I supposed to feel good about my outfit? I can’t possibly know if I look alright unless a strange man lets me know.

As his hands began wandering, I decided to get a look at my gentleman caller. Boy, was I glad i did. This guy was a dream. From the neck tattoos to the cargo shorts, this guy was everything I needed but never knew I even wanted. When I looked into his eyes, I knew immediately that this one was special.

After gazing into each other’s eyes in the midst of the flailing crowd, we began to dance our socks off. It was like I was back at a middle school dance again; his hands were roped around my waist, my back was to him and we swayed back and forth without saying a word. Perfect.

Just when I thought the situation couldn’t get any better, he whispered into my ear and invited me over to watch Netflix and chill. Boy, this guy really knew the way to my heart!

We continued our jig until late into the night and, once the bartender turned the lights on, we got a good look at eachother. Maybe it was the flat-brim Cookie Monster hat or the Coke-can-sized gauges in his ears, but when I saw him fully-lit for the first time, the butterflies in my stomach went berserk. I was in love. After all my years of bitterness and rejection at the idea of romance, I found myself swooning for the very first time.

He grabbed my hand and led me out of the bar, past my group of puking friends on the curb and we wandered into the night. We arrived at his apartment and, without a word, he walked to the T.V. and put on an episode of Futurama. Only my true love would have the instinct to play Futurama.

We snuggled up and laughed the night away. The rest is history, my friends. If you’re reading this, Brayden, I love you. Please text me back.

Anderson can be reached at [email protected]