HTV Wedding Week: the Straight White Boy Blues
In this final installment of wedding week at Handbasket Travel Ventures, I hope to raise awareness about an issue that afflicts 6 out of every 5 straight white boys: an inability to dance. While this disorder is an impediment at a variety of functions, it tends to be most visible at weddings.
We've all seen it. People who can't dance, who in spite of the fact that they can't dance, dance. And, that's okay. Not everybody can dance, and we shouldn't think less of them because they can't. I advocate this position because I can't dance. I mean, I really can't dance. And, since I know I can't dance, I don't dance. The only difference between the dancers who can't dance and me is that I know my limitations.
It's part of the constellation of traits that define the straight white boy blues. We can't dance. We can't sing. We have no rhythm. And, for the most part, we know these things. Which is why we spend our time at proms, dances, and weddings clinging to walls or chairs the way a toddler lovingly strangles the shit out of her favorite stuffed animal. Walls and chairs are safe. Open spaces are hazards. Open spaces are woman-wooing graveyards where our arms and legs can and will move as if being directed by the convulsions of a puppeteer suffering a massive stroke.
I've heard the counter-arguments. Nobody cares that you can't dance. Nobody's watching. Everybody's already forgiven you for accidently blowing out the bride's ACL at the last wedding. And, I'd believe all of these things if I didn't know they were untrue. Because people are watching, and they are noticing that you can't dance. Want to know how I know? All the other straight, rhythm-deficient white boys and I sit on our chairs and hold up our walls at our proms and our friend's weddings and we take notice of those who can't dance. I have to imagine it's always been this way. Many thousands of years ago, poor uncoordinated saps pressed up against cave walls and watched as their less rhythm-deficient friends gyrated for a bit before clubbing some woman over the head and dragging her back to their cave. (This was before chivalry died, of course).
So, let this be an open letter to all those who cannot fathom why my fellow straight white boys and I do not dance at clubs, bars, weddings, or parties. We don't get off on being withholding. We don't take pleasure in having others beg us to dance. We don't enjoy sitting feebly while polished wooden floors become populated by yet more ghosts of women un-wooed and opportunities missed. Know that we have our reasons for not dancing. We don't want everyone who sees us dance to require trauma counseling. We don't want someone to accidentally dial 911 because they've mistaken our dancing for a brain aneurysm. But mostly, we do not dance because we cannot dance. And, if the straight white boy blues are about anything, they're about knowing one's limitations.
Comments
bravo! great effort this week with the wedding theme. lots of good laughs, but more importantly good information to take to heart and drawn upon at the next weekend. looking forward to what next week brings!
you couldn't have ended on a more coincidental note either. yesterday, during a conversation with a younger woman who i meet last weekend and have started to get to know, the question of what places i frequent (i.e. where do you go out?) was asked. i mentioned the fine dinning establishments around the neighborhood and the few lounges i have been to. she mentioned several bars and clubs that i have heard of, and even one that i had gone to w/ a high school buddy when he visited. i called it a dive, but apparently i didn't go upstairs. that's where the dancing is. and that's when she flat out said "i can't see you dancing." at first i took minor offense to this, but then realized, i don't WANT you to have to see me dance. needless to say, this young woman has heard of the straight white boy blues - and i'll never see the upstairs of that bar.