I Don’t Dance

It happens at every wedding. It’s a blast getting to hang out with friends, eating food, celebrating the happy couple as the have their first dance…then the dance floor opens up to everyone.

No matter how well the evening has gone, the music hits, the beat drops, and I shell up, usually circling the wagons with a handful of bros at a corner table or trying to subtly slip away while the rest of my friends dance the night away.

Dance!

I have nothing personal against dancing or people who enjoy it, but dancing…confuses me. But I have never understood the compulsion to dance for it’s own sake. Maybe if there’s a strong cultural significance to it or on stage by a talented, graceful performer. (Being a white guy who played Football, neither the ‘culture’ angle nor the ‘graceful’ angle apply to me.)

On the rare occasion when I do dance, it’s usually to celebrate something or when the mood suddenly strikes me. Most times it’s when I’m home alone doing the dishes or cleaning house. Suddenly “Hooked on a Feeling” comes up on my playlist and I start dancing like a mad fool.

Even then it’s always a passing phenomenon and doesn’t last much more than a minute or two.

But at these weddings, people dance for hours on end. Meanwhile I’m in the corner nursing my eighth Dr. Pepper, planning an escape route.

It all confused me until a recent talk with one of my friends. She talked about dancing as something that brought her joy. That was her reason. The act itself makes her happy. It never occurred to me that dancing was something you could do just because it was fun. Not showing off. Not to feed one’s ego. Just…because!

It’s like the excitement I feel when I watch E.T. or the buzz I get in my fingers a story is coming together on paper just the way I see it in my head. I still don’t think dancing will ever be my thing. I’ll probably get a little more comfortable with the it as time goes by, but it will be never be something that brings me joy in and of itself.

Me and my dance partner at the last wedding I attended.

Me and my dance partner at the last wedding I attended.

But if I plan to get married someday (which I do) I have to face the real possibility that my wife might be one of those weird people who likes to dance, I will have to learn how to do it without getting self conscious. As a husband it’ll be my job to show her that she’s loved. And if that means I end up having to dance, then I will man up and dance like a fool for her.

And when the day comes, we’ll have to dance at least once on our wedding day. I intend to make it a good one. I don’t want to be worried about looking clumsy. I want to be focused on her and how beautiful she looks in her wedding dress. Something tells me that won’t be a problem.

And after the wedding, when we’re all settled in and “real life” life takes over, we’ll crank up the music on occasion and dance while we do the dishes.

Who knows? It might even be fun.

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