I Don’t Dance
I can, just choose not too. I have danced with my wife twice in the ten years we have been together.
I am like a non-danceaholic, in that at the drop of a hat I can conjure up dozens of excuses for not dancing. Luckily, I was at university, when most going out and dancing happens, when grunge was big, so I could go to gigs and nod my head and push into people while raising my fist in the air as a celebration of the Not Dancing. If I’d been born five years earlier or later, I would have been exposed to Euro House (the armjerk) or Britpop (arms aloft, walking in place and bobbing head singalong dance).
Even now, events at which dancing might be done loom on the horizon for me. When they do, I conspire to become the most helpful guy in the world. I offer to top up drinks, take coats, play music, man the barbeque. As a vegetarian, I would rather cook other sentient beings than be seen dancing with my own species. That’s how bad it is.
We’ve got a summer ball at son’s school coming up, with the theme as Casino Royale, so I will be happily working the tables at the event, encouraging people to gamble at a child’s school instead of dancing.
July 11th, 2005 at 8:24 pm
You and Brandon Walsh.
Hee hee.
July 11th, 2005 at 11:49 pm
have danced with my wife twice in the ten years we have been together.
That’s quite sad.