WE DANCE – but why?

We should be tired, because we have been dancing since 3,300 BC. Solid proof of that materialized under one of the Carnac Stones (from around 3,300 BC) located in Brittany (France), where archaeologists found the white bell-bottom-disco-pants John Travolta wore in Saturday Night Fever. If you don’t believe me, look it up yourself.

I like music, I got rhythm and I can snap, tap and whistle it all with the best of them. But can I dance? If you consider that I do not physically flow well with any music; that I feel utterly stupid on a dance-floor and you consider my overall dislike of social dancing: I can’t dance if my life depended on it. So why do you dance?

Dancing is rhythmic movements of our bodies to music (obviously not mine). It is non-verbal expression and communication that can be participatory, social, performed, ceremonial, competitive and erotic/sensuous (as in exotic North-Pole dancing, by Mrs. Santa Claus, remember?) We dance for spiritual and religious reasons; we do the ballet and modern dance; we folk-, square-, line- and ballroom dance; we dance for healing purposes as well as the everyday war & rain dances. And let’s not forget tap-dancing which can, for the most, be enjoyed outside occupied restrooms (toilets, as some readers call them).  And then we have my all-time favorite, the  mating dance– oh, that’s listed For Animals Only; but of course you still see a connection, don’t you?

For me, social (participatory) dancing was hell from the beginning. I was forced to go to all the school-dances. Girls lined up against one wall; the twisting, turning and in severe pain boys on the other wall. We had finally evolved from hitting each other as a sign of liking each other (and it had worked so well) to where we were now encouraged to dance with each other instead. The shy, the awkward, the weight-challenged, the ones with glasses, zits, low personal hygiene and bad breath were never asked to dance; not just in retrospect, but how cruel was that? I looked in the mirror back then and I, for one, would not dance with me either. Brutal rejections were noted on my dance-card and sadly accepted; just part of growing up, harvesting low self-esteem and being insecure.

But for a glorious moment, I did succeed in one bit of dancing – on wheels…

At 13 and fully interested in that other gender, I was seriously attracted to a much older girl (16) in school. I found out that she was into roller-skating-pair-dancing. I was a fairly good roller-skater so I got my Mother to sign me up at the same dance-studio; I never told my Mother the real reason. Jytte (the girl’s name) was paired up with another girl, as boys found roller-skating-pair-dancing to be a thing for fruitcakes and not macho on any level. I didn’t care because I was the only boy in the middle of 17 cute girls on skates and I was so much in love/lust.

Jytte was beautiful as she hovered above the floor, the short skirt and her long legs pouring into those white skate-boots. With hard work and practice, it didn’t take me long to prove myself worthy of her highly developed skating skills and we soon became a pair; though not precisely the kind of pair I had fantasized about. But still, getting to hold her and glide over the floor with her was heaven.

When we came in second in the first big contest we entered, she swung her arms around me, hugged me and kissed my very surprised lips for the longest time – really; and she didn’t let go of her trophy or my hand the rest of the evening. I have since wondered what would have happened if we had won the championship – oh well. A bum knee ended my world with Jytte – dancing was unfortunately all we ever did (sigh)…

Overall women dance better than men. I don’t know what it is, but we (the men-gender) look, for the most, uncomfortable, stiff and silly. We do that lower-lip biting, snapping fingers on the wrong beat, at the same time trying desperately to smile, chat and be utterly charming while unsuccessfully make them feet move in any form of pattern that would simulate dancing. I for one cannot do all those things at the same time. Women just swing their hips and bodies and dance along as if they really like to do so; and I’m convinced they do and that's why they are good at it...

And talking about performance dancing: back in my youth I was fortunate to hang around and party with members of the Royal Danish Ballet for a few years. This opened doors for me to their training and practices as well as the many performances at the Royal Theatre; ballet was new to me, but I got caught at once. The sensuality of these dance performances was and is stunning and utterly awesome. I never got into the stories they are telling, but more so the performance by each and every dancer on stage. The hard training, the sacrifices and the extraordinary discipline is still inspiring – and they sure knew how to party… Most performance dances still make me go: wow!

So why are you dancing? I asked some friends (for me that is called: extensive research) and both responded: music. I can swing with that, but isn’t there a lot more to it? I remember when I attempted dancing a few times, there were several reasons, but for the most it was to be physically closer to somebody (not just anybody, mind you), but somebody I found special. What are your reasons?

I rarely dance by myself, like some people do, especially not in the shower; I’m told that’s against the law or something – or is that singing? If there is a possibility to dance and my wife is around, she will drag me out on the floor and I admit that I like that, not the dragging part, but dancing with my wife – remember? Somebody special.

Don’t get me wrong, I truly respect people who like dancing, enjoy it for the sheer excitement, social interaction, movement, music and rhythm. I certainly respect those dudes who are desperately trying to hit the beat with hips, snapping fingers and too many feet while biting that lower lip; I think they are very brave – but that’s precisely why you’ll never see me out there; only if my wife drags me – but also because she’ll slow-dance with me; talking about a lucky guy…

Until next Monday: Cha-Cha-Cha

NOT my wife and me (my hair is white)

Want to be notified about new posts? Follow the directions to your right. New posts of LIFE AS IT REALLY IS are being published every Monday. Thanks so much for following my blog.