Charlene’s explorations of a big, beautiful world

how she move

January 26th, 2008

I went dancing last night for the first time in a long time. I’d been in a club as recently as New Year’s Eve, but it had been a long time since I had really danced — sweaty, 2 hours nonstop, losing myself in music and movement dancing. And oh my god, I am reminded that I love dancing so much!

My legs hurt, my ass hurts, even my abs hurt (must have been all those body rolls!), I have been so sedentary since school started. And I didn’t get out of bed until 4pm! (I am in for such a world of hurt when classes start at 9am Monday.) So many thanks to my friend L for inviting me along. It’s a good reminder to somehow work dancing and physical activity into my packed spring semester. In one of my business classes, we have to introduce ourselves *as if we were our best friends* and name our passions — I know, I know, quel terrible for the introvert! — and when I made my mental list, dance was up there, even though I rarely do it now.

The techno music, while danceable, was such a strange mash-up of songs and rhythms. It reminded me of the mishmash of music that accompanies cheerleading competition routines (imagine “Bring It On” if you don’t indulge in guilty pleasure viewing of such competitions on ESPN as I do). And I’m pretty sure I went to college with one of the DJs (Stareyes); she was the arts editor at the school newspaper when I was a mere production intern.

Being in a club, shaking my booty, as a married 30-year-old was so surreal at times. It was nice to get some (non-husband!) male attention, as that’s no longer something I’m accustomed to. (My friend J has assured me that it’s because we married women no longer give off the “available” vibe or pheromone or whatever, not because we are no longer hott and sex-eh.) All the same, how do you politely and not presumptuously convey while dancing that you’re dancing seductively and looking good because you’re feeling sexy and enjoying yourself, not because you’re looking for attention from random men? And please give me some damn room? That would be one helluvah interpretive dance!

There was the Asian guy I dubbed the fisherman, because he was sporting a straw hat, of all things. He eventually introduced himself by raising his drink and saying, “Salud!” and then explaining that was the Spanish way to say “cheers!” I responded, “Yo se. Mi marido es Peruano,” which means, “I know. My husband is Peruvian.” Unfortunately, he didn’t actually speak or understand Spanish. He told me he had recently gotten the hat from Mexico and complimented me on my dancing. I said thank you and told him my name was Maria. Then I danced away quickly. That is, rápidamente.

There was also the rather sweet guy who danced near us all night, who I dubbed my personal bouncer. He made polite, non-leery conversation, and when my friend L went to the bathroom and people were getting too close for comfort, he asked where L was and asked if I was OK. When L finally got back to the dance floor and was looking for me, he tapped her on the shoulder and pointed her to the back of the room, where I had retreated to get some more space. Really, very sweet of him. It reminded me of how male friends in college would go to frat parties with us girls and then protect us from the grabby hands of drunken frat boys. I would love to go dancing again and really have no qualms about going alone if I can’t meet up with a friend, but having a protector would be great. There should be a service. Maybe the club can offer the service. Check in your coat, check out a personal bouncer. That would be awesome.

Entry Filed under: Personal Puttering, Random Thoughts & Observations