Regrets in a glass

I haven't had a cup of tea since my last post. And on a quiet night like this one, it probably would have been a better choice than the glass of red wine that's made my brain slightly fuzzy and my toes slightly numb. But I never claimed to be smart when it comes to drinking (or to be able to hold my alcohol, for that matter). The result is late-night, wine-fueled blogging mania. Huzzah!

So, straight men can't dance? Amen, sister.

I spent a good portion of last night at a neighborhood bar in the Richmond, where a DJ was spinning early 90s music and the only people really dancing were a couple of drunk girls plus me and my friends (so basically, a bunch of drunk girls--yuk yuk!). It was definitely a "bro bar," from the deer horns on the wall to the hunting video game in the corner...but most of the guys were clustered at one end of the bar, staring longingly at the other end. There were a few nodding their heads to the music and awkwardly edging their way closer to the girls, but the only ones who made any pretense at dancing were either socially inept (and shouldn't have been dancing, period) or probably gay.

What is it about social dancing that is the straight man's kryptonite?

Perhaps it starts at birth. Women are socialized to be in control of their bodies--to be graceful and alluring. The female body in motion is sensual. We learn at a fairly young age how to dance to attract men or claim a place in the social hierarchy. Men? Well, men are socialized to be spectators, to observe women dancing. But with all the emphasis on athleticism, on strength and power and agility on the (insert manly sport here) field, shouldn't more men be comfortable moving their bodies on the dance floor? After all, it amounts to pretty much the same thing--a display of sexual prowess. Athleticism = mastery of the body = good sex = MANLY MAN (rawr).

Maybe it's all too much pressure. If sexual prowess is measured by how well a man can shake his badonkadonk, maybe men are just scared of falling short--or, on the flip side, of appearing less manly by being too much in touch with their "feminine" sensual side. But wouldn't the world be a better place if men could just learn to shake their groove things without fear? No more awkward shuffling on the outskirts of the dance floor, no more bobbing their heads while their female friends rock out to The Best of Michael Jackson, no more covering up the urge to dance with a half-hearted step-touch step-touch. Wouldn't it be great if men could just admit they have the urge to dance, go out to the club with their guy friends, throw all their shoes in the middle of a circle and just boogie for their own self-satisfaction?

OK. That might be kind of weird.

But the way things are, it amounts to a meat market. Women dance, men watch; and when he gets up the nerve, a guy might move in slowly behind a cute girl and begin the awkward side-side shuffle that moves closer and closer. If she consents, they both bob side-to-side for a bit, building up to the moment when he deems it safe to rub his...erm...package against her...um...buttocks.

Such is the culmination of straight male dancing. No grace, no finesse, no pride in the skill of improvised movement. Just sex--or rather, the possibility of sex.

Hmm...so I guess it's not TOO surprising after all.