Don't Stand So Close To Me

I am what you would call a selfish dancer. I can't think of a better way to describe my complete disregard for any feelings of embarrassment my wife may experience while I dance in public. There are certainly worse dancers out there, but in a given room it can be safely assumed I will rank near bottom. Imagine my surprise then, when my child like moves attracted a seemingly normal young lady this past weekend.

My wife and I were attending our friends' wedding reception on Saturday night. It was held in a beautiful banquet room in downtown Duluth, Minnesota. Though she was out on the floor a bit herself, my wife being pregnant, was relegated to admiring her husband from the sidelines for much of the night

It was towards the end of the night, after the initial exodus of guests had left the floor with only half of its original number. The DJ had stopped placating the elderly, and started playing more risque numbers for the younger crowd. I was dancing alone, which happens quite often due to the amount of space my moves normally take. For whatever reason, the music always seems to demand a lot of knee and elbow action from me. Despite what I must have looked like, there she was, a stranger heading in my direction. She was not at all intimidated, and before I knew it she had two-stepped her way right into the five foot cushion I had created.

I wasn't opposed to a dance or two with someone I had never met. It was a wedding and a very friendly atmosphere had been created through the night. Plus, there was certainly nothing sexual about the way I move that would invite anything more than a friendly dance at a comfortable arm's length. This is actually my preferred distance, not only for the safety issues I mentioned earlier, but because I have never been able to get on board with the grinding that goes on these days. I say "these days" like I am 81 years old, but as a matter of fact, I would probably fit in better at a sock hop than I do a modern day club.

After a few verses though, she started moving closer. I should mention, this was unprecedented. I had never been approached by a stranger on a dance floor, so I was as delicate as possible at first, moving just a few feet back at a time, even twirling away in an attempt to make it not seem so obvious. But no matter what I did, I couldn't quite keep the distance permanent. I kept exchanging looks of bewilderment with my wife across the room, Can you believe this? But, as the girl kept creeping closer, I soon realized we were definitely on two very different pages. My silent signals to my wife became more desperate, I'm terrified, can you please help me?

There was no assistance forthcoming and it was clear I was on my own. I assessed the situation. The girl was obviously on a mission. It seemed my only option was to try and change her goals. I needed to turn down the charm, make myself less irresistible to her. Starting at such a low level of charm though, turning anything down was not as easy as it sounds.

Take jazz hands for instance, jazz hands are not an unusual move to find in my regular routine. So when I started to exaggerate them in an attempt to draw her attention to my ring, it was too similar to what I had been doing all along. The question became, if you regularly look ridiculous while dancing, how in the world do you step it up a notch? I began trying anything and everything. Strangely, the jazz hands, the fist pumps, even the spinning floor stomps seemed only to encourage her. In fact, instead of scaring her away, she started mimicking me as if I were trying to teach her something. My foolproof plan was backfiring. I was dancing as if I was covered in flames and she was just warming up.

Desperate, I had to play my last card. I B-lined it to my wife and asked her to dance. Courage is not my strong suit, and hiding behind my wife seemed perfectly acceptable in this situation. As I looked around for the girl, I realized she had followed me and heard me ask another person to dance. The girl was visibly upset and just so there was no confusion of who the asshole was in this scenerio, she gave me the finger before walking away. My wife and I stood in stunned relief. To be sure, the display of emotion was completely unexpected. After seeing the rage in that girl's eyes though, I realized I got off easy. If the worst that came from this awkward situation was the bird, I was pretty content.