I don't dance. I never have, for one reason or another. I don't entirely know why anymore. I just know that other than the primal stomp of the mosh pit, well...it's just not my thing. I don't really understand it either-I don't get the appeal of dancing and I don't get my aversion to dancing. After all, most of the music I listen to is dance music, from one century or another. Big beat, swing, renaissance era dance music-I listen to it all.
I just don't move to it in quite the intended fashion.
It was a good gig. Three hours, off and on, for a car club. 300-plus people getting down and groovin' to what we did. Even to what I did, a little bit. My trombone blasts through the blues and funk and Mexican-influenced rock we play, and the club members and their guests react favorably. No big introspective message, or moral complications, or even weird chord changes. Just music for a good time and a good time to be had by all.
Well...mostly anyway. I'm a child of the suburbs through and through. I know big box retailers and sterile cleanliness in my cities, and the enthralling banality of middle class values. A lowrider club is not my world. Gang signs on the dance floor is not my world. Heck, a dance floor is not my world. But like I said-they were a good crowd, and they fed us. You can't dislike people who feed you.
It was about one and a half, maybe two hours in, when the dance floor was jumping in earnest, that I noticed her. She was tall, especially for a woman in that crowd. Maybe five-nine, five-ten in heels. She wore a tight top and a very short miniskirt that just barely covered her backside, and she had long permed hair that stretched halfway down her back. Not exactly my type or my tastes, but she was...captivating. Every song, whether the dance floor was packed or whether she was the only one on it, she was there, and grooving hard to the music. And I couldn't help but watch her. I didn't show up looking for a girlfriend. I had no intentions of talking to her afterwards. I had absolutely no stake in her, and yet...I was fascinated by the way she was tranced in each song, and by the way she moved: with abandon, with joy, but with undeniable groove and skill.
I have never held any appeal for the traditional trappings of femininity. Makeup, fashion, dresses, subservience-these are not things I desire in the least. But at the same time I can't help but appreciate someone who is who they are, for themself and in plain view, without reservation, hesitation, or apologies.
I still don't dance, and I still don't understand the appeal of dancing. But this woman at that "this-could-have-been-scary-but-it-actually-turned-out-ok" gig...she danced, and she danced like no one was watching.
And I can respect that.