I've been dating a wonderful man now for around four months. While four months is certainly not enough time to say "he's the one" or espouse other sappy romantic colloquialisms like "he is as soft and pure as the air I breathe" (don't laugh, I actually used that one, much to the chagrin of my good friends). I am profoundly intrigued by him. I am in fact, intrigued enough to spit it all out here until you, dear reader, beg for mercy and promise me you will endeavor to live a good, honest life hence forth if I will just stop with the endless list of things I really dig about him.
I won't do that to you. At least not yet anyway. What I do want to do is focus on one particular aspect of our relationship. From the moment we met, we had this way of taunting each other with how much we love to dance. Okay so perhaps I did most of the taunting. He is a bit too aloof to throw down the embellished disco gauntlet and give away his moves too early but it was a fun time for us to anticipate the moment when we could finally dance together.
Of course the anticipation also meant we were challenging each other to be, at a minimum, decent dancers - you know, the kind who can follow the rhythm of the music, keep in time with the beat and not consider any type of herky jerky movements our "signature move". Haven't we all sat helplessly and watched the seemingly endless folly of rhythmically-challenged, yet fully impassioned dancers? You see them at every club - every business convention, every family wedding - even occasionally in front of you at a national league baseball game or at your very own backyard BBQ.
What is it about dancing anyway? We now seem to have a national obsession with it. We have Dancing with the Stars, So you Think you Can Dance and even a new show called Dance your Ass Off, which is quite honestly the worst exploitation of overweight people since Krispy Kreme donuts. Remember Dance Fever with Denny Terrio? I dare say, that could have been the catalyst, the show that started it all. Or was it as far back as American Bandstand and Soul Train. I willingly admit, I loved watching Soul Train so much more than American Bandstand. The music, the vibe, the sets, the clothing - it was all done in concert to the rhythm and beat of some amazing soulful music. American Bandstand paled in comparison (no pun intended).
But I digress....
The boyfriend and I had a few opportunities to dance here and there. It was mostly in places where the music was okay - the lighting was, shall we say, well lit - the crowd was self absorbed. Not exactly eager to shake our groove thang but we did shimmy to a few well loved standards. It was enough for me to say with some level of confidence, "this guy will not embarrass me on the dance floor".
And why do we care if someone embarrasses us on the dance floor anyway? Isn't the whole point in life to dance like nobody's watching? I was raised in a traditional Southern Baptist church. Just think of the movie Footloose and you'll know what I mean. How could any religion see dancing as a sin? I have a feeling I know what the Baptists were afraid of. They suspected one could get carried away when they dance. Just as Marijuana is considered a gateway drug - dancing is considered a gateway to kissing, lust and other sexual desires.
The moment did finally come for us to dance in the way we had both desired. We were out of town - exploring the streets of a wonderful city, when we happened upon a salsa club. Given our accents and ethnic appearance (his Armenian and mine Oklahoman) - we felt certain of our ability to blend into the Salsa scene seamlessly. We adopted sexy persona's and transformed ourselves into Carlito and Juanita, hitting the dance floor, succumbing to the beat, moving in tandem - sweating, wildly spinning and freely giving ourselves to the rhythm of the Latin movements and to each other, fully trusting the experience and knowing we would not embarrass each other.
Man, those Baptists were on to something because I've never wanted anyone more in my life. Carlito was sexy personified.
Dance, Little Sister, Dance
Shake your Booty
Dance like there's no tomorrow....or at the very least like you're not afraid to embarrass yourself. I hope you dance.