I recently set out to throw a party at my house; I invited some friends, threw some steaks on the grill and grabbed a bunch of good booze. It’s something I do fairly regularly; I like having a good time and sharing the experience with others. We also threw some good, danceable music on the stereo (not techno but some booty-shaking old-school soul and funk, I like it) and people started tapping their toes and politely bopping their heads. But, very few actually danced.
Now, make no mistake; I’m white. When it comes to dancing, I’m incredibly white. I have very little rhythm, no mastery of moves (except for breakdancing, and not all that well; yes I can hear you laughing at me, you girl-pants-wearing emo fuckwad) and almost no timing. I look like a coked up chimpanzee in the midst of an epileptic seizure, and I can’t for the life of me imagine why that’s sexy or cool. But, after several shots of whiskey and a good meal, I got up and shook my ass with the few who were brave enough to join me. I’m sure I looked patently ridiculous (as always), but in no time flat, I had the prettiest girl at the party joining me in some bumping and grinding. She looked sexy; I didn’t much care what I looked like, shaking my angular derriere to Stevie Wonder’s “Superstition” was pretty damn entertaining. The hot chick dancing with me was just the icing on the cake.
When I looked over, there were a bunch of guys on the couch watching me with amusement and barely concealed jealousy. I could plainly see the source; the pretty girl was touching me and not them. And it got me to wondering; why don’t more guys do this?
Dancing is good for you. It’s exercise that isn’t mindlessly repetitive. It gets your heart rate up, releases endorphins and causes pretty women to grind their hips on yours. Believe me, if I were a little chunkier than I’d like, slacking my belt while a hot chick rubs herself on me sounds like a small slice of heaven. So what’s the hold-up?
“I can’t dance,” people say when I ask. “I’ll look stupid” say others. Well, I’ve seen what I look like while dancing, and let’s just say I won’t be tearing up Broadway or giving Michael Flatley a run for his money anytime soon. I won’t even have B-boys saying “chill move” or “that’s fucking DOPE!” if I hit the dance floor. Most likely, they’d just laugh. Personally, I don’t give a fuck.
And that’s why I can dance. Getting your freak on at a party involves literally not caring about appearance, just working up a sweat and having a good time. Usually, girls like to dance (and they have the unfair but ultimately pleasurable advantage of tits and hips to shake, we men unfortunately do not) and are collectively put out by the fact that guys don’t. At the risk of giving away one of my prime advantages (my willingness to look silly with an audience has caused more than one pair of panties to eventually evaporate) I’m going to give the guys in the audience a homework assignment.
Wait until you have the house to yourself. Or, just lock the door to your room if that’s what it takes. Find the most irrepressibly white music you can that still has a good beat (“She’s A Lady” by Tom Jones is a good choice…really). Clear some space if you can. Play the music, as loud as the sensibilities of your neighbors will allow. Now, start flailing. Move to the beat. Get your fucking freak on. I’m serious, it’s fun.
Remember that scene in “Risky Business” (A movie probably before the time of most of you; go watch it) where a teenaged Tom Cruise dances like a ninja mutant stripper around his house (in his undies no less) to Bob Seger? Yeah, it was silly. Yeah, we all laughed. But look how much fun he was having. So, try it yourself. And the next time you are at a party, and some good tunes come on, simply do the same thing. Keep your pants on, of course; tighty whities are not sexy. If you need a little push onto the dance floor, a couple shots of tequila will do the trick. It’s called “liquid courage” for a reason.
Not looking like an idiot when you dance is as simple as not worrying about looking like an idiot. Even if some people laugh at you (and they will, because some people are assholes), most will secretly be wishing they could be as secure in themselves as you appear to be. I think maybe that’s why women like men who are willing to throw a few moves out there. Nothing says good things like confidence, and confidence means not giving too much of a fuck about the opinions of people you’ve never met and who, at the end of the day, don’t really matter.
So the next time you hear something that makes you tap your toe, and there’s booze and hot chicks involved, don’t stop there. Just dance like nobody’s watching. You might be surprised at the result.
No comments:
Post a Comment