2008-03-01 7:11 p.m.
Dance 'til Dawn
Last night, we had a dance on campus. It was themed "retro", and they played dance hits from the 70's through the 90's. I showed up just after it started, when they were playing "I Will Survive", and found my friend - we'll call him John - who is gayer than rainbows. I love him. He agreed to be my date for the evening, as long as I didn't mind sharing him, haha.
I haven't danced in a long time. I took dance for 3 years in high school. There isn't a type of dance that I haven't done...except breakdancing, but that's more acrobatics. Jazz, tap, ballet, hip hop, modern, swing, salsa, tango, waltz, flamenco, ballet folklorico, African dance, Korean traditional dance, and numerous other kinds of dance. The last time I went to a concert and really danced myself out was my senior year of high school when I was having a nervous breakdown and needed the stress buster. I danced for three hours each of three nights in a row. Almost gave myself dangerous asthma attacks that could have ended badly, but I needed the vent/release.
I didn't dance much last year. Being felt up by creepy old men at tango lessons kind of killed them for me, and the dances on campus were always to rap music, which generally just kind of sucks. But I figured I should at least drop by last night, since the guy who was organizing it is a friend of mine.
John and I danced our way through Michael Jackson hits, 70's dance tunes whose names we didn't know but choruses we belted out, Madonna, the boy bands of the 90's, Britney Spears and the Spice Girls, an assortment of dance hits we vaguely recalled from our childhoods...it was fun times.
We shocked the hell out of some of our friends because they didn't realize that we could dance as if we actually had chemistry between us - since he's gay and I wouldn't be interested even if he were straight. They didn't quite realize that that was precisely the reason we could so shamelessly dance so closely - or so crazily - together. There was no sexual tension, so we were free to be silly and scope out everyone else on the floor. And oh, did we ever. We were totally checking out the breakdancers, especially the one who we both knew.
I got back to my apartment exhausted but grinning - even though John and I had been bemoaning the lack of decent guys for either of us to pursue and the fact that even if I wanted to, I can't overtly go after a guy because that suddenly makes me a threat to his masculinity. We had such fun, the two of us.
I always feel so alive after I dance. Even when I'm exhausted and sweating (and believe me, I sweat a lot when I dance, because I get really into it), it's the best feeling in the world. There's something so freeing about losing yourself in the music and the flashing lights, letting the bass and drums take over as the pulse that you move to, flowing with the sound around you, almost melding with the other people on the floor, since everyone else is experiencing the same.
I've never done drugs, nor will I ever, but dancing must be like a good trip.
I love the playfulness of dancing with a friend, or the mischief of dancing with a random stranger who can't figure out whether or not they know you in the dark and smoke and flashing colored lights. I actually feel sexy and beautiful when I dance, because I know that I can MOVE.
My mom has only seen me dance twice. The first was at my school's dance show, when I was in the salsa routine, dancing with another gay friend, and she was amazed that I could actually move my hips the way I can. She was also amazed that he and I had "chemistry" on stage, even though he was fabulously flamingly gay and I am completely straight. She kept asking if he was really gay, not understanding that the "chemistry" we seemed to have was only because - thanks to a lack of attraction between us - we both felt safe and comfortable enough with each other to dance really closely, like salsa kind of requires. As for learning to shake it...well, that was his fault to. We had been paired up by our instructor, and were learning the dance, and he basically told me that grade or no, he wouldn't dance with me unless I knew how to move...so I was forced to learn.
The best thing that boy ever did for me was help me give myself the boost I needed to get the confidence to dance in front of people. Since then, I've loved dancing.
The second time my mom saw me dance was at a concert, when I totally let myself go. Her eyes damn near bulged out of her head. I'm 220 pounds, twice her size, but I move more gracefully then she does. That, and I was really dancing, I didn't even notice her staring until halfway through the concert, when the music stopped long enough that I turned around to grab my water bottle from her. She seems to think that my being a big girl means that I should have no confidence - especially when it comes to being on the dance floor. She doesn't realize that I dance for me, not the attention it gets me.
Truth be told, if it gets me any attention, I've never noticed it.
But I have noticed what it does for me. I have so much fun, laugh so much, smile so much, and generally love the hell out of life when I'm dancing. It's like being in another world.
It's a whole different world where it doesn't matter what you look like or how you move, just that you flow with the music and the rhythm around you. That you give yourself over to your impulses and do what you feel like doing. Nobody looks stupid dancing except those who are trying to look cool, I know that.
So I made a decision, as I was falling asleep in the shower after getting back at 1:30. I'm going to start dancing again. Bellydance, salsa, flamenco, tango, jazz, whatever. Doesn't matter. Dance is amazing, and it makes me feel alive and energized. I've been so worn down lately, that I need that - I need the space to let myself go and melt into the music as it surrounds me.
Even if I just play music in my room, I'm going to dance for at least an hour each night. At the least, it's good exercise, and I certainly need more of that. But more importantly, it makes me feel good.
It makes me feel beautiful.
John predicted that when I'm in England I'm going to go dancing every night. While that may not be the case, I certainly plan to go clubbing most weekends. :D Nothing will stop me from continuing to dance, ever again. I told him it was too bad he couldn't come with me, because he and I would have tons of fun in the English clubs, flirting with the British boys with beautiful accents even though we had no intent of ever seeing them again. We'd just be being silly, living for the moment.
We live too much in our heads. Always worried about what we could have done differently in the past, or what we'll do in the future, that we never stop to notice the moment around us. The only time I ever seem able to do that is when I'm on a dance floor in the flashing lights and smoke, unable to make out anyone's faces between the blurred eyesight I'm blessed with (I never wear my glasses to go dancing) and the smoky rainbow haze, moving to the music and letting myself go. There's nothing to think about, nothing to process, and if you're letting worries about past and future flow through your head, chances are you're going to stop dancing for those thoughts. At least I do.
So dancing frees me from my own thoughts.
I figure I've talked your ear off about this enough, so I'm going to go and dance now. I'm still sore from last night (we danced until we could hardly stand anymore; 4 hours worth of really high-intensity dancing in a room that felt like a sauna from hell) but as I learned a long time ago, the best cure for soreness is more of what made you sore.
