The Dancing Queens
You know what I love? Dancing. No, not strictly come dancing, Natalie Portman in the black swan sort of dancing, but that slightly shit, slightly wobbly dancing you do at parties. You know how I know I love this… applaud me now, for I only went and got myself invited to another party. *curtseys* I know, I know, I’m working my way up in the world.
Let me get something super straight. I can’t dance for shit. I’m an awkwardly proportioned person with a very short body and very long arms (my mum says I walk like a gorilla, it’s awful I know), my feet are too big and flat, and most importantly, I have very, very bad coordination. My body is not built to be swift and graceful. So for all intents and purposes, I should hate dancing. And for the most part, I do. I can’t follow choreographed dancing at all, it’s really rather problematic. Once I auditioned for a school musical, and the director asked if I can dance, and then the dance teacher said ‘god no’ and they all just started laughing… That truly was a bit traumatising. I also have a crap memory so I just can’t remember steps. It’s why the songs I most appreciate in life are ones that give explicit instructions on what to do in the roughly 3 minutes whilst it’s playing. Hence why when the cha cha slide starts playing at a party, I audibly sigh in relief. But sometimes even that goes a little askew.
But, regardless of the emotional and physical pain, most dancing causes me, the type that against all odds brings complete and utter joy to my heart is dancing at parties. And I’m getting real specific here. I mean a party where there is a good hefty chunk of people. Not three people doing something that resembles interpretive dance in the middle of someone’s sitting room. No. That gives too much opportunity for people to not take it seriously. My dears, I am with the strong belief, much like Wham!, that if you’re gonna do it, do it right. Now for my more capable readers, I’m sure being fully committed to the dance you’re dancing regardless of if you’re the only one on the dance floor, and everyone else is slightly awkwardly watching along is fine. But to me, a self-conscious little child lady, the best times ever, are when you’re slightly smooshed in the middle of a crowd of people all dancing to the same song.
This is the best opportunity for fun, firstly just because it’s generally too dark to really see anything further than the person directly in front of you glowing with the strobe of some blue flashing lights. No one can really see the intricacies of what you look like, or how red you’re turning because honestly, this is the most consistent movement you’ve done in a while. All they can see is that you’re having fun. And this, to me, is the biggest boost of confidence ever. It is truly special how at ease I feel in the most unlikely predicament, and perhaps suggests how totally low my opinion is not only of myself but of others. Because in that moment, when there are colourful lights flashing about everywhere, and a base so loud around you that for about a minute and no more you’re certain you’re going to go deaf but you just don’t care, people, strangers, friends, are one community. That’s really cheesy, isn’t it?
It’s that whole universal language thing. Everyone can enjoy music, and everyone can move however they want and laugh and smile together. Even if you’ve never spoken to them before, or if you’ve wished you could have spoken to them, or if they’re your best friend, you are sharing a moment. One, enclosed moment, in a little bubble of time with the people around you all having feelings invoked by the same means, and expressing those feelings in the same way. You accept the people around you, no matter how odd they may seem, not only because you’re slightly drunk, but because there is something about the atmosphere that just buzzes with euphoria.
And yes, maybe it’s a little bit sad in a way too. If a feeling only truly exists in this little bubble, in one moment, it slowly dissipates and settles back into a variation of normalcy as soon as the lights come back on, and the night comes to an end. But I suppose magic doesn’t have the same feeling if it’s always there, right? In a way, you won’t really lose that moment completely. You’ll sort of always share this inside joke, secret handshake sort of feeling with the people you shared a slightly wobbly, slightly awkward looking dance move with in the midsts of a sweaty, compact dance floor. And to me, that gives off a spark of the magic you’ll have to look forward to.
Oh, by the way, if you happen to be reading this Fenton. Your dancing to Mambo no. 5 was the most elegant thing I’ve ever seen, and I totally did not see you spill your drink on the floor or anything.