The Dancing Bug

Posts Tagged ‘manners

So I’m in DC for the Lindy Exchange, and perversely, this post isn’t going to be about the exchange at all. Isn’t that just like me?

See, my sister is a local resident, and since I’m staying with her, I figured it was only right I let her talk me into checking out her preferred form of dancing while I was in town. My sister is addicted to salsa dancing, so on Thursday night we dropped in on salsa night at Dance King Studio in Leesburg.

Now, I’ve done a little bit of salsa, just like I’ve done a little bit of practically every other dance that’s going these days. I’ve even had a little zydeco led on me. Never tried contra, but whatever. I figure if you can follow at all, you can pretty much follow anything.

And that’s generally true. Following is following. You may not follow pretty or look like you know what you’re doing, but at least you won’t get your arm broke off or do anything really embarrassing.

Which pretty much sums up what was happening for me Thursday night. I was managing to get through most of the turns and make it from point A to point B in one piece.

But you know what completely eluded me? The aesthetics of the thing.

First of all, as a lindy hopper, dressing up to go out dancing means something different to me than it does to a salsa dancer. I wore the only heels I had with me, a pair of black Aris Allens that are vintagy-funky-cool at a swing dance, but at a salsa dance they could not have appeared dorkier. Girls dressed up for salsa wear tall, tall spindly spiky things on their feet. Salsa dancers cover the stylistic range between elegant and slutty, but they all appear to be aiming for sexy. This is in no way the aesthetic for swing dancing. And even though I wore the closest equivalent outfit I could throw together, I’m sure people were wondering why I was dressed like someone’s grandma. I felt like a total doofus.

Secondly, there’s the music. Oh, the music. I think that in order to be able to dance convincingly, you need to be moved by the music. And salsa music does not move me, unless it’s out the door. It sounds like circus music to me, and it was way too loud. But my sister, and here’s the important point, my sister listens to that stuff IN HER CAR. Enough said?

Finally, though, salsa dancers just seem to have a different idea of what dancing is actually FOR. As an outsider, it appears to me that they’re really hung up on the whole gender-role difference thing. The men are really manly, and the girls are over-the-top girly. And when a lead approaches me with that Magnificent Beast look on his face, well, it just makes me want to laugh.

Which I actually did, periodically throughout the night. I laughed. Swing dancing makes me laugh a lot, which is why I do it. But salsa dancers don’t seem to like that so much. As a matter of fact, the highlight of my evening was when one of these magnificent beasts led a turn on me, and accidentally smacked me right in the forehead. I about died laughing. I had to stop and have a short fit of hysterics. And the man just stood there, wearing that Mask of Zorro look, not even cracking a grin. Just stood there waiting until I had recovered and could proceed with the serious business at hand. If you don’t think that made me feel like the Special Child, think again.

So basically, salsa dancing, blech.

But I will say that salsa dancers do seem to be enjoying themselves every bit as much as I do when I’m at a swing dance. So I’m not disrespecting the dance itself. It may very well be that I am just way too awkward and unwieldy for this much more adult-seeming form of dancing.

Whatever.

In fact, I’m just perverse enough that I might for the hell of it buy myself a pair of those spiky things and give it a try again next year.

(P.S. Had the honor of meeting fellow dance-blogger Jason from “Dancing Past the Godzilla Threshold” at the lindy exchange last night, and if he’s reading this, he better get ready because I intend to ask him for a lotta more dances tonight!)

Last night I didn’t feel like going dancing, but I made myself go anyway.

I’d been depressed all day, you see. It was one of those days where I just couldn’t get started at doing anything. Nothing sounded fun or important enough to bother with; consequently, I wasted most of the day lying around fiddling with a Rubik’s cube and eating leftover Halloween candy.

So I felt like a slug. Way too much of a slug to go dancing. Plus my back hurt and I had a weird pain in my foot. All I wanted to do was stay home and watch old Sanford and Son episodes. But I figured staying home would just make me feel worse.

Besides, I was supposed to meet someone there, and I just didn’t feel like yet again, like always, failing to follow through on my commitments. You understand the kind of day I was having?

So I dragged myself to the dance. And I had a terrible night.

Not like the music wasn’t perfect, it totally was. And bunches of my friends were there. It should have been great. And I did have a couple of very pleasant dances with folks.

But I just wasn’t feeling it. Physically, I felt exhausted and huge, like I was this big awkward object lurching around. Mentally, I felt like I was back in middle school, watching the popular kids have fun while I ate my lunch at the dork table.

There was this girl there that I’d been wanting to dance with, a really good follow who I don’t really know, but have been dying to try and lead. The perfect song came on, so I ran to find her. She was talking to a guy, but I had already tapped her on the shoulder before I processed that she was busy. Not like I could just go “oh, never mind.” I’d already interrupted their conversation, I had to follow through, so I asked her to dance, and she agreed.

I was pretty sure she’d said yes just to be polite, so I really wanted to dance well to make up for my having asked her to dance in the first place. You know, make it worth her while. So naturally, I danced terrible.

Then, to make it worse, I apologized for my bad dancing.

Then, to make it even more worse, I tried to explain, and then suddenly I found I couldn’t stop explaining. I kept talking on and on, and she was staring at me like I was a crazy person. Which I basically was.

For the rest of the night I found I had this apologizing complex. I couldn’t stop apologizing, and then apologizing FOR apologizing. Leading, following, didn’t matter. I couldn’t stop telling people how bad a dancer I was. It was like my body had been taken over by some weird apologizing demon, and all I could do was helplessly listen to myself, unable to stop.

I don’t even know if there’s a moral to this story. Sometimes, when you’re having a bad day and don’t feel like going out, the healthiest thing is to make yourself go out anyway, because it will usually make you feel better. But last night I really should have stayed home and watched Sanford and Son. So I guess the moral is that sometimes, if you don’t feel like going out, it’s better to stay home.

Does it seem to you that most people who love swing dancing, and swing music, just love old stuff in general?

Let me offer my ownself to you as a case study, just for arguments’ sake. I think my tastes are fairly typical for a typical swing dancer. Let’s see now…

Of course, I love old music. So do you, so do we all. Isn’t old music what brings a lot of us to swing dancing in the first place? And certainly keeps us here. Otherwise we’d probably be salsa dancers or westies or something.

What about old movies? I know a lot of us get renewed inspiration from watching, not just the old dance clips on YouTube, but any of the old black-and-white movies that feature random song-and-dance numbers as wildly improbable adjuncts to their already far-fetched storylines. But I love ALL old movies, and ONLY old movies, from the sublime (Twelve Angry Men) to the ridiculous (Disorder in the Court). IMHO, very few movies made since 1970 are worth watching a second time.

Old clothes? Of course. Not that I own many, or could fit many if I did. But I treasure those items I do have, and I live in perpetual regret that as a culture, we just do not look as well-put-together as we used to. Look at almost any old black-and-white photograph of a crowd scene, and you will see nothing but neat and well-dressed people. Even the bums standing in breadlines look relatively stylish. A cross-section of mall shoppers on any given weekend will reveal lots of personal self-expression and very little actual good taste. Sigh.

Old manners, there’s a good one. Honestly? I think I married my husband mostly because he has never once let me open a car door unassisted. But I cannot tell you the number of times that I have been run off the sidewalk by a pack of highschoolers walking two abreast, talking on their phones. What’s wrong with people anymore? I swear, the next time the girl at the bank looks at my check and then calls me by my first name like I’m her BFF, I’m going to, well, scowl in disapproval anyway.

Old houses, definitely. I’ve always loved to poke around restored historic mansions, projecting myself into domestic scenes of long ago and wondering how the hell those ladies fit into those tiny shoes. My own house was built in 1904, and it’s full of old furniture, doilies, table lamps,books and knickknacks. The only television screen I own is hidden away back in the sunroom, where no visitors ever go; I deplore the current custom of placing a giant screen front and center in every room of the house.

Old books? Of course. Not necessarily 20th century old, either. I’m talking Victorian.

Old news. By that I mean I’m a history buff. Actually, one of my other blogs is on American history. Since I don’t watch television I really have no idea what’s going on in the world today, and I really don’t even care. I prefer to leave current events to those who actually have the power or inclination to do something about them.

What about old food? I don’t mean leftovers, silly. I just mean I don’t eat anything that would not have been recognized as food a century ago. I buy actual ingredients, and cook them. Crazy idea, I know.

Of course, not everything old is great. Massive, widespread, legally-sanctioned racial prejudice, for one. Outdoor plumbing. Devilled ham in a can. Wool swimsuits.

And of course, there are a few not-old things we swing dancers cannot live without. Mainly YouTube. And of course, where would we lindy bloggers be without our laptops and the Internet?

Still, I love old stuff, and swing dancing is a huge part of that. And I think a lot of us swing dancers are that way. What do you think? Do you love old stuff as much as I do?

So I’m out the other day at a place where a lot of people are dancing who normally don’t. I mean that the event wasn’t specifically a dance event, just one where there was music, and people were drinking, and some of them got a little carried away and started dancing.

Now, I don’t drink, or I’d have an excuse for what happened. Maybe it was just my natural exuberance.

Anyway, this older gentleman came up to me and asked me if I wanted to dance with him.

I mean, he gave me fair warning. He said, “I used to swing dance, but I haven’t done it in years.” I’ve heard this before, and what it always means is that the person went out dancing a few times in the nineties and learned the Pretzel. I know people like this are the absolute worst arm-breakers there are. But I guess I was just being overly-exuberant, and I agreed to dance with him.

Then he proceeded to clamp both my hands in a vice-like grip with his big old thumbs, and started jerking my arms up and down like he was shaking the dust out of an area rug.

Of course, the first thing I did was say “Ow.”

So he goes, “What?”

“Ouch,” I said. “You’re squeezing my hands.”

He smiled broadly. “They’re one of my favorite bands too!”

What could I do? I smiled back. Well, maybe it was more of a grimace. I don’t know.

Then I sorta flexed my hands, to get him to readjust his grip. He did, and then clamped down harder than ever, giving my arms an extra shake in the process.

Okay, well, maybe this was one of those situations where what the follow needs to do is match the lead’s arm strength. I mean, there are still some instructors who tell you to do this. Maybe it would help. I squeezed back with my hands and tightened up my arms.

A sudden jolt of pain through the base of my skull told me this was the wrong tactic.

So then I let my arms go all floppy, and tried to concentrate on breathing through the pain in my fingers.

Feeling the sudden lack of “connection,” the gentleman augmented the area-rug shake with a forward-and-back pumping motion of his arms.

I survived the remainder of the song by mentally repeating “breathe, breathe, breathe” to myself, over and over.

So I’m asking you. What would you have done?

It has come to my attention that my advice yesterday about being friendly when you go out dancing may not be particularly helpful for some people.

As someone rightfully pointed out to me, if he knew how to do that he wouldn’t need the advice in the first place!

Many of us get started at dancing for the very reason that, in the course of our normal existence, we don’t get the chance to meet a lot of people. Writers and artists of all kinds, those of us who work from home or in a cubicle, students and other brainiacs who have to do a lot of reading every day – there are lots of occupations where you’re isolated most of the time. Engaged in our important or not-so-important work all day long, we may gradually lose the ability to connect with people. And if we started out shy or isolated as children, we may never have acquired that ability in the first place.

Basically, our culture tends to make everyone more and more socially awkward.

Going out dancing is a great idea for correcting this! There’s no better way to meet lots of nice people. But the problem is that if you don’t know how to meet people in the first place, then you may go home from dancing feeling more isolated than ever.

So if that’s your situation, never fear! I’m going to quickly run through some of my best advice for the ultra-shy.

  • When you go out dancing, always try to get there in time for the drop-in. Even if you already know how to dance. Actually, I think the drop-in is a lousy place to learn to dance anyway. If you want to really learn to dance, take some privates or go to workshops. But always take the drop-in because it’s a great way to meet people. The main benefit of drop-ins is that they’re full of people who all feel super awkward. So if you feel awkward, you’re not alone – everyone else does, too.

(A side note: Instructors, please remember this. Don’t try to stop people from talking in the drop-in. You’re not going to teach them to be excellent dancers in an hour anyway. So leave them alone. And please remember to rotate a lot! Thank you.)

Say you weren’t able to get there in time for the drop-in. Or you’re in the drop-in, but the instructors are being all weird and not letting you talk. All is not lost! People expect to be asked to dance when they go out dancing, so just ask people to dance. There have been a lot of posts in this blog already about asking people to dance, and there will be many more, so I’m not going to go into it here. But the following advice works equally well whether it’s in the drop-in or during the normal part of the dance.

  • Introduce yourself to everyone you dance with. Just say, “Hi, I’m Howard.” Or Dorothy, or Spike or whatever. Normally, the other person will then offer his or her name. Memorize it. This is important, because I want you to thank them by name when you’re done dancing with them. Come on, you’re a brainiac, memorizing things is what you do, right? You can do this! Try to learn at least a couple of names per night.
  • After you’re consistently able to introduce yourself, start trying to follow up the exchange of names by saying just one other thing. That’s all I’m asking you to do, say one thing. If it leads to a conversation, great! If not, you’re off the hook; just smile and know that you did your part. Remember that while you don’t want to ask personal questions right away, it’s easier for the other person to think of something to say back if you leave a question mark at the end of whatever you say.

Here’s some topic ideas:

  1. The crowdedness: “Boy, it’s crowded tonight, isn’t it?” or “Where is everyone tonight?”
  2. The lighting: “I wish they’d turn the lights down a little, you know?” or “Does it seem kind of dark in here to you?”
  3. The temperature: “Why is it so cold in here?” or “It’s like a sauna in here, isn’t it?”
  4. The room: “Aren’t those some crazy light fixtures?” or “Isn’t this floor amazing?”
  5. The building: “Isn’t this a cool old building?” or “Has this always been a dance place, do you think?”
  6. The music: “Is this Louis Prima?” or “I just love Ella Fitzgerald, don’t you?”
  7. The season: “How’s your summer going?” or “Are you all ready for the holidays?”
  8. The band: “Have you heard this band before?” or “Isn’t this band awesome?”
  9. The move: “Am I leading this right?” or “Have you done this move before?”
  10. The instructors: “Those instructors are fun, aren’t they?” or “Did you notice that instructor’s crazy shoes?”

You can use the above steps even when you’re not dancing. If you find yourself standing next to someone in line, or you’re both sitting out the same song, try introducing yourself and saying one other thing. You can think of it as practice, if that helps.

When you’ve done the above, you really don’t need to do anything else. Don’t keep trying to force a conversation if it’s going nowhere. But what I do suggest is listening when the other person answers you. If they’re skilled, they’ll answer you back in such a way that it gives you the chance to say something else, and it can go back and forth. It’s like volleyball; you both keep hitting the ball back and forth until someone drops it.

And someone will drop it. You can’t keep talking forever. If the talking gets too much for you, you can always stop. The other person will just assume you’re listening to the music or thinking about something. Same goes for them if they stop talking. Don’t take it personally. Just smile.

And remember one of the beauties of dancing: at most, you’ve got three minutes of awkwardness with any one person.

Okay, what can you do to make people want to dance with you? I’ve been blathering on about this topic for days, and I swear this is the last piece of advice I’m going to give you (for now). But it’s a pretty good one:

If you want people to want to dance with you, forget about getting people to dance with you, and instead, focus on making friends. Because people always like to dance with their friends.

I need to confess something here. When I go out dancing, I honestly have the best intentions. I always mean to try and dance with as many new people as I can, and sometimes I do a fairly okay job of it. But what always gets in the way is my friends. See, I’ve been dancing in this scene for so long that most of the people who are out there, I’m friends with. And if I don’t squeeze in at least one dance with them, both of us are going to be disappointed. And sometimes that can take up my whole night. Seriously, I have to make deals with myself. Three dances with friends, then one with a new person. Or whatever. Ridiculous, right? I know!

What I’m saying is that if you have a lot of friends in the scene, you shouldn’t have any problem getting dances.

Now, I know you’re not one of these creepy types who is just there to pick up a date. But you can’t tell me that you go to all the expense and bother of getting dolled up and going out because you DON’T enjoy hanging out with people. And honestly, they’re out there for the same reason. We’re social beings, and we can always use more friends.

I think sometimes we get so caught up in our own little world of pain and self-consciousness that we start to think of those other dancers out there as just things. They’re things who yank our arms, things who look at us funny, things who never ask us to dance, things who make us feel bad about ourselves.

But every one of those people is someone with his own pain, or her own self-consciousness. Even those snobby dancers who won’t dance with newbies. Even the cool people who think they’re too awesome to dance with someone who’s awkward. And even those people who are too awkward to dance with. They’re all way more interesting, and in way more pain, than you’d ever guess by looking at them.

They’re not just there to make you feel good or lousy about yourself, or to provide you with some sort of dancing experience. They’re not just machines you can put a quarter in and a dance with you comes out. They have their own issues. You have no way of knowing what’s going on with them if you just sit there and make assumptions based on their appearance. You gotta reach out.

So how do you make friends? Well, how do you make friends in the real world? Dancing is no different. Obviously you’re not going to go barging up to folks and chat them up while they’re trying to dance. But people aren’t always dancing. If there’s someone sitting there who you’d like to talk to, I’d suggest waiting until the song is well underway, until it’s safe to assume they’re not planning on dancing in the near future. And then just do what you normally do. Be friendly. Reach out. Say something nice. Whatever. You know how to do this.

It’s also perfectly legal to chat with people while you’re dancing with them. And it’s a great idea if you feel at all weird about your dancing, or if you can sense that your partner feels awkward in some way. Making a little small talk can be a welcome distraction, and keeps that grim look off your face that you get when you start thinking too much about dancing.

Don’t expect magical results your first night in a new scene. But you should certainly be able to manage at least one or two new acquaintances. And if you keep going back week after week, it won’t be long before you have your own little crew. And you’ll wish the night was longer because you didn’t get to dance with all of them, even though you were dancing the whole time.

I don’t know. Does that help at all?

Okay, so if you are concerned that no one wants to dance with you when you go out, there are certain obvious things to check. Like, do you smell bad? Clearly, that could be a problem. Or are you too rough? Or do you have a constant frown on your face? Are you sitting there texting or reading a book? Are you inebriated?

These obvious factors are just a matter of having good manners. It’s kind of like when you call the repairman, and the first thing he asks you is if the thing is plugged in. Duh! But every once in a while, the thing isn’t. So you can always check the common-sense things first.

Some other basic items to check would include:

  • Being too sweaty.
  • Wearing too much perfume.
  • Wearing dangerous-looking stilletos.
  • Being dressed in an embarrassingly strange manner.
  • Having a tendency to throw girls up in the air or turn them upside down.

I’m sure we’re safe in assuming that your mother brought you up right, and you don’t do any of those things. Still, it never hurts to check.

Then there are the less-obvious factors that might be holding you back. These are less about etiquette, and more about psychology.

For example, if you’re a girl and you want to get asked to dance, you should probably try to avoid sitting or standing next to a lot of other girls who are also waiting around to be asked to dance. Reason being that it’s awkward for a guy to approach a whole pack of girls and pick out just one of them. So he ends up having to say something like, “Would any of you like to dance?” And that’s pretty weird. So he’s probably not going to bother.

Another way to not get asked is to engross yourself in deep conversations. Most people aren’t going to want to interrupt. Not saying that you shouldn’t converse with folks, just don’t expect to get asked to dance while you’re doing it.

If you’re sitting down, you probably look like you’re just watching. There’s lots of folks standing up, and they’re the ones who are going to get asked.

Just plain old avoiding eye contact will stop most people from asking you for a dance. Actually, I think this really could qualify as the universal signal of not wanting to dance. If someone is approaching you with that look in their eye, and you look away from them, they’ll probably change their mind and not ask you. Conversely, sometimes you can make someone ask you just by looking at them! Worth a try anyway.

If your issue is people turning you down when you ask them to dance, then as a follow I can tell you that leaders often err in two ways: either by being too formal, or being too informal.

Too informal means not asking at all. Guys will come up and just grab your hand, or give you a head nod. They might as well just do the Fonzie thing and snap their fingers. Pretty bad. Unless you’re really tight with someone, this can be a little insulting and more than a little pressure-y.

Too formal is things like saying, “May I have the honor of this dance, Milady?” and bowing. It’s a bit much.

Now, given the general shortage of guys, most girls probably won’t turn you down if you’re obnoxious like this, but they probably won’t be super happy about it either. And you might just earn yourself an awkward nickname, like the The Fonz or Sir Galahad. So don’t risk it. Just ask nicely.

For leads or follows, wearing weird shoes can sometimes make people think you’ll be uncomfortable to dance with. There was a period in my dancing history when I avoided dancing with people who wore black-and-white dance shoes; bad experiences had taught me that such folks were over-eager about their dancing, i.e. arm-yankers. I don’t do this anymore, but if people look grim when you ask them to dance, it may be your shoes that are terrifying them.

If the people in your scene are really into not dancing with certain people, newbies or people who don’t look like models or whatever, then following this kind of simplistic advice is probably not going to help much. But like I said, it never hurts to double-check.

I’m sure I’ve forgotten a million of them. Anyone wanna chime in here with their pet peeves?

So here’s one of the ways you can make people want to dance with you: Work on your solo dancing.

This has been mentioned a time or two before in this blog, and lots of the comments agree. Solo dancing is excellent in so many ways, and if you’re having a crisis about your personal magnetism in the dance scene, there are some very specific ways it can help.

One is that it just makes you a better dancer. You learn better control of your ownself, and that’s crucially important. When things go wrong in a dance we so often blame our partners: “He was yanking on my arm.” “She was too heavy.” If people seem to be avoiding you on the dance floor, it could very well be that you’re irritating to dance with. Sorry, and I only say this to you because I love you, but the problem may be you. Maybe you are a bit hard to move, or maybe you are too rough. If you learn to move yourself properly, then at least you can eliminate this one very practical reason why your dance card might not be as full as we’d like.

Solo dancing also gives you confidence. When you’ve done a lot of solo dancing, especially in front of a mirror, or recorded yourself on video, then you can at least feel good about how you look when you’re dancing. If you have no idea how you look, it’s easy to make yourself think people don’t want to dance with you because you look goofy. Practice your solo stuff and you’ll know that at least that isn’t the reason.

But it isn’t just the practice of solo dancing that I’m talking about. I mean that you should actually take your solo dancing out to the floor. I know this is more customary in some scenes than in others, but personal opinion? I think every healthy swing dancing community should be embracing solo jazz on the social floor.

For one thing, if there’s a lack of appropriate partners to dance with, then what are you going to do, just sit around and feel sorry for yourself? You could do that at home and save six bucks. When a song comes on that you love, if there’s no one around to dance with, there’s no reason at all you shouldn’t be able to enjoy yourself. You paid good money to go out and have a good time. So have one!

Besides, doing some solo Charleston off in the corner makes you look like one of the cool kids. You don’t even have to be very good at it. People will give you credit for being out there. You’re demonstrating to the world that you don’t give a crap, and that’s extremely attractive to folks.

It also proves that you’re not just there to pick up chicks (or guys), you’re actually there to dance and have fun. That can really go a long way toward eliminating any creepiness factor that might be lurking, because honestly? People are paranoid sometimes.

Busting out your solo stuff also shows folks a little something about how you dance. Now they have more information about you than just your physical beauty or lack thereof, and your taste in clothing. They have a chance to notice your dancing, and it’s a way of sort of advertising yourself to people who might not have noticed you before.

The funny thing is that nine times out of ten, if you start dancing solo when an awesome song comes on, you won’t be dancing solo very long. Someone is gonna come over and start solo dancing with you. Before you know it, you’ll be in a little Charleston jam. Not always, but pretty often. It’s like they all wanted to solo, but weren’t brave enough until you stepped up and started it. So they’ll be grateful, and again, they’ll start to think of you as one of the cool kids.

Solo dancing is one of my favorite ways, but not the only way, to get to the top of the swing dancing food chain. Tomorrow I’ll talk about another idea.

Okay, so what can you do?

You’ve been going out dancing for awhile, and you’re seriously bummed out because no one seems to want to dance with you. No one ever asks you to dance, and when you ask them, they take one look at your grotesque self and either dance with you but have a pained look on their face the whole time, or they come up with a lame excuse not to dance with you at all. Either that, or they run screaming for the door. What can you do about this?

There are many voices out there that say you shouldn’t have to do anything at all. It’s those peoples’ fault, not yours. They’re wrong and bad and shallow for not wanting to dance with you, just because you’re the wrong size, shape, color, age, sexual orientation or whatever to fit their ideal. There’s no reason you should have to change anything about yourself in order to get dances.

And there really is something to this. It is just a dance, after all, not a marriage proposal. If people go out dancing it really does seem quite stupid to go around not dancing with folks. Life is short; we all really ought to be dancing with as many people as we can while we have the time left. And the leaders of our dance communities should be modeling and teaching this concept. This is all very true.

But apparently in the real world it doesn’t always work that way. People don’t always dance with folks. There’s probably some of this happening in all dance scenes, and in some scenes it’s apparently quite a problem. So what can you do?

One thing you can do is quit dancing. I hear this one more often than I’d like to. Just  forget about dancing and try something else where people aren’t so mean and shallow. Although I don’t know what that would be. Anything that brings you into contact with other humans, you’re going to run the risk that those humans are going to be idiots. It isn’t just dancers.

Of course, we all know what the number-one, all-time best way of getting dances is. If you can possibly arrange to be born beautiful, that helps a lot. If you look like Liv Tyler or James Franco, most people are going to want to dance with you, no matter what. Even those jerks who won’t dance with anyone else will dance with you. Even if you dance like a wallaby with sciatica, people will be sniffing after you all night long.

Oh, so you tried that? Yeah, me too. Didn’t work so well. I tried so hard to be born with excellent genes. I especially tried to have long, slender legs, a flat stomach, long blonde hair and big boobs. But my parents had other plans, unfortunately, and didn’t cooperate. Dammit!

Okay, so another thing you can do is study for years and years and become a really excellent dancer. Lots of us are practically killing ourselves even now trying to pull this one off. If you’re a famous rock star, no one will particularly notice how funny-looking you are.

After all, think of all the rock stars you know. Funny-looking, right? Every single one of them. Come on, seriously? Has no one noticed this but me?

But getting to rock-star status could take awhile. And although practicing and working on your dancing is a very excellent thing to be doing with your time, you can’t just sit around not dancing with people until that glorious day when you’re famous on YouTube.

So what can you do?

Well, I’ve got some ideas, but this post is already long enough. So I’ll save it for the next couple of days. But in the meantime, it would be nice to hear from some folks. How can you make people want to dance with you? What works?

Did stretching in public work for you last week? Because I gotta tell you, it didn’t for me. Most of the time I didn’t even remember, which I think was my brain’s way of rebelling against what it believed to be my body’s attempt at a hostile takeover. And then when I did think of it, well, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I honestly didn’t realize I had such a big problem in this area. But now that I know, I’m taking steps. I started taking a Dahn Yoga class that focuses on this very issue – we do a lot of silly, childlike exercises and practice moving “however your body wants to move.” I’m going to keep exploring this issue, and maybe one day, when I’m seventy or something, you’ll see me doing tai chi in the park. But not this week.

Okay. Well, inspired by some discussions in here during the last couple weeks, I’ve come up with a very simple challenge for you. This week, if you’re a lead, I want you to try and dance with every follow in the room. Every follow. That may not be altogether realistic, numbers-wise, but do your best. And follows, dance with every lead. All of them.

For both leads and follows, that means two things: First, even though you hate asking for dances, do it anyway. Force yourself. Just ask anyone and everyone, and if you get turned down, just ask someone else and don’t freak out.

And second, you have to dance with everyone who asks you. If you’re inclined to say no to a certain person, well, you can’t. Just do the next best thing and limit it to only dance one dance with them. Then if they ask you again you have my permission to refuse. But you have to dance with them at least once.

Got it? Okay, well then you’ve got a lot of dancing to do this weekend, so don’t sit here all day staring at the computer. Get your shoes on and go. I’ll see you back here tomorrow!


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