Footloose

The wedding is fast approaching, and I still don’t know how to dance. At all.

I guess I’m just so used to getting by on my wit and charm alone, that I never really cared that dancing was just one skill I never mastered. When I say I don’t know how to dance, I mean that I don’t know how to dance. Elaine Benes from Seinfeld could dance circles around me.

It’s not as though I haven’t tried either. Throughout my life, several friends have tried to teach me, including Wifey, who actually majored in dance. It’s not their fault, really. I’m just not teachable. When they try to teach me how to Tango, my internal rhythm says Cha-cha. When they try to teach me to dance to hip-hop, my internal rhythm automatically goes to the funky chicken.

I’m not so worried about the first dance; it’s a slow dance which is something I’ve been decent at since the 7th grade. Back then we made sure to keep our distance between us and our dance partner - I’m pretty sure the same thing applies in your mid 20’s, right?


I digress…


I’m not so worried about the slow stuff, I’m more worried about the faster songs - the kind that actually takes a sense of rhythm to dance to. I guess one option is just to avoid the dance floor all together with during those songs – after all, I’m going to have to schmooze throughout this wedding anyway, might as well make sure I do it at the most opportune times.

What’s that? Oh, you want me to come dance? Sorry – I’m actually catching up with Crazy Aunt Betsy who’s telling me a riveting story about her pottery class.


Then there’s the second option of only doing the dancing I know – which includes the aforementioned chicken dance, and the ever popular fist pump (courtesy of MTV’s “Jersey Shore”). But something tells me that Wifey would not approve.


I guess the last option is to learn how to dance in a hurry. That means that I can either park my ass in front of the TV while watching Kevin Bacon in Footloose until it just sinks in, or I can try my luck with some brave soul who’s willing to teach me. Any volunteers will be asked to sign a waver admonishing me of any guilt in the case of broken toes.


Any takers?



- Jack Asher