I know this is a silly subject, but I need help. I need to find a happy medium when I’m out dancing. I seem to fluctuate between two different modes: dancing like my grandma, or dancing like I just fell off the nearest stripper pole. I’m not shooting for either of these. I go out a lot, and I like to dance, so I need help. When I dance with guys I either get a comment about how far away from them I am, or else I get too close and end up getting a lot of unwanted fondling. How do I find a place in the middle that’s fun but doesn’t broadcast the wrong message?
Two years of advice-giving, and finally someone asks me about a subject that really uses my expertise. I love dancing. I am, in fact, marginally famous for my dancing. In certain circles, at certain parties, my dancing is vehemently requested, and often, people won’t take no for an answer when I say I’m not in the mood.
Unfortunately, I’m not what you’d call a good dancer. Enthusiastic? Yes. Original? Hell yes. Coordinated? Sort of. Rhythmic? Occasionally. Do I care what people think of my dancing? Not a bit. In that regard, then, I’ll tell you to dance however you’d like. Do whatever you feel like doing, and enjoy yourself. If you really want to be a good dancer, though, I’d take a class. There are a lot of exercise-type dance classes where you might learn some new moves, or maybe there’s a community education dance class you can take to brush up on some basic skills.
Now I’d like to address the unwanted fondling. Dancing is dancing. It’s not an invitation to molestation. Men who take advantage of dance floors to rub their goodies in inappropriate and disgusting ways on uninterested women are completely repulsive and I don’t think I’m way out of line when I say some of these guys are on the very tippy borderline of committing sexual assault.
I was recently out dancing with a group of friends, and all of us are married to people who would rather attend Give A Senior A Pedicure Day at the retirement home than go out boogeying on a Saturday night. There I am, pulling my smooth moves, when all of a sudden I feel something pushing in the vicinity of my rear end. EXCUSE ME? Luckily, I’m an innovative dancer and a fan of direct verbal communication, so I invented on the spot what’s now called the NO! Dance. It involves pointing your finger at the person, saying loudly and firmly, “No!” and then dancing away. If Mr. Nasty Dancy Pants insists on following you around the dance floor, as those loser molester-types are wont to do, repeat yourself, but more loudly, until he gets the picture.
You may doubt the effectiveness of this dance, but I can attest that there was a large berth between me and anyone who might get the wrong idea about my intentions or desires on the dance floor. This was convenient, because it cleared a large space for me to execute some of my best moves.