Dancing is one of those things men are of two minds about: On the one hand, it is far too easy to seem effeminate or foolish when dancing in the eyes of your peers. On the other hand, it’s fun, and it lets you get close to women. It seems, then, that the pros outweigh the cons, as long as you do it right. You need to have self-confidence and own the situation. Men respect a guy who looks like he knows what he’s doing, and chicks dig confidence. Dancing, then, is a path to greater things, social acceptance, and a generally good time.
I’m probably one of the most uptight men of my generation. I had a rather Victorian upbringing, WASPish in its prudishness. I’ve fought against that for most of my adult life, but the results have been a mixed bag. That said, I would lay some small claim to being able to dance. A few weeks ago a female friend of mine –well into her cups– leaned across the table and slurred with great enthusiasm and sincerity, “You can dance, Geoff Micks! I mean, properly dance!”
I’ve been ruminating on that unlikely statement ever since, and now that I have it worked out into a narrative, I should probably put it up on this blog for you to enjoy.
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Posted by faceintheblue 
