Finale Fireworker
Member
I managed to go all twenty-five years of my miserable life only dancing on two occasions: forced square dancing in eighth grade gym class and one uninspired slow dance at my then-girlfriend's senior prom. Neither of these count.
I don't like dancing. It's something I never learned to do, or wanted to do, and my life was nonetheworse for it. I love musical theater, and react positively to other people dancing, but I have never felt compelled to do it myself. When people asked me to, I would decline. When people asked if I could dance, I admitted without hesitation that I simply could not. Like a lifelong allergy, I just avoided it. It became part of my personality, really. Media gave me the validation I needed to be comfortable being a bad dancer. Hearing enough men on TV say "Oh, I don't dance" was the perfect model for a guy like me.
"Oh, me? Ha ha, I don't dance. I'll be over here pretending to text if you need me."
My current girlfriend, who will inevitably be my wife, loves to dance. She loves music and responds to it in ways I do not. Music makes her want to move - and she does - and she seems so at home and in tune with tunes. It's not just that she loves to dance, but that she's just naturally very good at it, and I am naturally an actual sack of potatoes. As a couple, we have always challenged each other to do things we thought we could not. So when my company party was coming up, and she asked if I would dance with her, I knew I had a moral obligation to say yes. Also, because I love her, and she really wanted to dance with me. I didn't want to dance, but I wanted to do it for her.
I only started this job in January. It's my post-college job and it's the first place I've worked that would have an annual company party at a classy venue. I already had anxiety about going because I didn't know what to expect, but knowing I was going to have to dance made me repeatedly consider driving my Camry into the ocean. But, again, I love my girlfriend and am still making payments on the car. I chose, this time, to live.
And, dear readers, it was the most humiliating thing I have ever done. I cannot exaggerate how uncomfortable I was and how desperately I wished for it to end. Song after song after song, my girlfriend was so happy. I, the potato-man, was not. I have never been more uncomfortable in my life. It was so unnatural, so unpleasant, and extremely embarrassing. I had no idea how to move with the music. Notoriously tone-deaf and unfamiliar with most of the songs, I just stood there shaking completely independent from whatever was playing. I constantly scanned the crowd in hopes of finding somebody to emulate, but I couldn't even wrap my head around the most basic rhythmic movements.
I decided that my only escape would be to embrace the bad-dancer shtick and really ham it up. I tried to, if nothing else, be funny. But I couldn't even do that. As I was trying to look like I was too cool to dance, an actually talented dancer took the same route and became the laugh-magnet of the dance floor. The guy was awesome, talented, and made me want to walk the 280 miles to New York City and leap in front of a subway train.
But my girlfriend was so happy. I just kept looking at her. She would occasionally grab my arms and move my body for me to "give me some structure". She didn't care that I was the worst dancer to ever be abandoned on the planet as a baby by aliens who had not invented music yet. She was just... happy. Happy to have me out there with her. We danced for a couple of hours. I was repeatedly told she was the life of the party and she is such a good dancer. I thanked them and silently wished I could match her. Doesn't she deserve a better dancer than me?
I ended up thinking a lot about it on the drive home. Why was I so uncomfortable? Why is it so easy for her, and that one guy who playfully took his shoe off and pretended to "call me on my cell phone"? What is happening in their bodies and minds that does not happen to me?
I realized that I hate myself - and my body. This is why I can't dance. It takes so much energy to just walk around and live life normally that I do not have the mental bandwidth to let loose. It's a mode I am programmed without. It is not supported by my operating system. Asking me to dance is like asking me to fly. The best I can do is maybe run in circles and flap my arms. I will never get off the ground.
The embarrassment I feel is an extension of my rock-bottom body image. Constantly stressing that I wear clothes badly, sucking in my stomach, making frequent trips to the bathroom just to make sure there's nothing on my face, I am the ultimate physical neurotic. How can I be expected to dance?
It would be very easy for me to say "oh, you know how us white guys are!" But I don't want to be like that. I don't want to resign to the fact I am a rhythmic idiot and never try to get better. But I don't know where to start. I don't know how to gain all the skills and senses I am currently without. There are no Elite Beat Agents to help me here. There is only me.
What would you guys do? Let me illustrate exactly how musically inept I am. In high school, I was in a mandatory chorus class. I was a baritone, so I didn't even have to sing the melody. In the middle of a song we were singing, my chorus teacher stopped us all. He pointed to the kid next to me, played a note on the piano, and told him to match it. He did.
He then pointed to the kid on the other side of me. He played another note on the piano and asked him to match it. He did.
Then he pointed to me. He played the note on the piano. My brain immediately fried. It was like being asked to define a word from a language I have never heard. Match the note, he said. And I couldn't. I didn't even know how to try. He just kept playing it over and over while I sat there sweating. Finally, he started making the note.
"Aaaaaah-" he said.
"Aaaaaah-" I said, totally off.
"AAAAAH-" he says louder.
"AAAAAH-" I say again, totally off from both his and my previous note.
We just stared at each other yelling "AAAAAAAH" while I randomly adjusted my pitch in an attempt to land on whatever note he was making. Finally he kicked me out of the class because he thought I was doing it on purpose.
He confronted me later and I told him I wasn't doing it on purpose. I really just didn't know how to make the note. All I could tell him was that the notes were different, not what they were or how to match them. He felt bad, consoled me, and then politely requested I drop out of chorus.
Which I did.
I have a ton of problems here and I definitely feel hopeless. I don't know how to dance and have no idea how to improve or where to start. I am having trouble being calm, cool, confident, and sexy, so I figured I would ask a bunch of gamers on the Internet.
I know the healthy answer is probably "who cares if you are a bad dancer?" But I'm currently drinking a Diet Pepsi in the shower as I hammer this out on my iPhone. I care that I'm a bad dancer and I want to get better to keep up with my girlfriend.
What should I do? This is my first Off-Topic thread, it's that important.
I don't like dancing. It's something I never learned to do, or wanted to do, and my life was nonetheworse for it. I love musical theater, and react positively to other people dancing, but I have never felt compelled to do it myself. When people asked me to, I would decline. When people asked if I could dance, I admitted without hesitation that I simply could not. Like a lifelong allergy, I just avoided it. It became part of my personality, really. Media gave me the validation I needed to be comfortable being a bad dancer. Hearing enough men on TV say "Oh, I don't dance" was the perfect model for a guy like me.
"Oh, me? Ha ha, I don't dance. I'll be over here pretending to text if you need me."
My current girlfriend, who will inevitably be my wife, loves to dance. She loves music and responds to it in ways I do not. Music makes her want to move - and she does - and she seems so at home and in tune with tunes. It's not just that she loves to dance, but that she's just naturally very good at it, and I am naturally an actual sack of potatoes. As a couple, we have always challenged each other to do things we thought we could not. So when my company party was coming up, and she asked if I would dance with her, I knew I had a moral obligation to say yes. Also, because I love her, and she really wanted to dance with me. I didn't want to dance, but I wanted to do it for her.
I only started this job in January. It's my post-college job and it's the first place I've worked that would have an annual company party at a classy venue. I already had anxiety about going because I didn't know what to expect, but knowing I was going to have to dance made me repeatedly consider driving my Camry into the ocean. But, again, I love my girlfriend and am still making payments on the car. I chose, this time, to live.
And, dear readers, it was the most humiliating thing I have ever done. I cannot exaggerate how uncomfortable I was and how desperately I wished for it to end. Song after song after song, my girlfriend was so happy. I, the potato-man, was not. I have never been more uncomfortable in my life. It was so unnatural, so unpleasant, and extremely embarrassing. I had no idea how to move with the music. Notoriously tone-deaf and unfamiliar with most of the songs, I just stood there shaking completely independent from whatever was playing. I constantly scanned the crowd in hopes of finding somebody to emulate, but I couldn't even wrap my head around the most basic rhythmic movements.
I decided that my only escape would be to embrace the bad-dancer shtick and really ham it up. I tried to, if nothing else, be funny. But I couldn't even do that. As I was trying to look like I was too cool to dance, an actually talented dancer took the same route and became the laugh-magnet of the dance floor. The guy was awesome, talented, and made me want to walk the 280 miles to New York City and leap in front of a subway train.
But my girlfriend was so happy. I just kept looking at her. She would occasionally grab my arms and move my body for me to "give me some structure". She didn't care that I was the worst dancer to ever be abandoned on the planet as a baby by aliens who had not invented music yet. She was just... happy. Happy to have me out there with her. We danced for a couple of hours. I was repeatedly told she was the life of the party and she is such a good dancer. I thanked them and silently wished I could match her. Doesn't she deserve a better dancer than me?
I ended up thinking a lot about it on the drive home. Why was I so uncomfortable? Why is it so easy for her, and that one guy who playfully took his shoe off and pretended to "call me on my cell phone"? What is happening in their bodies and minds that does not happen to me?
I realized that I hate myself - and my body. This is why I can't dance. It takes so much energy to just walk around and live life normally that I do not have the mental bandwidth to let loose. It's a mode I am programmed without. It is not supported by my operating system. Asking me to dance is like asking me to fly. The best I can do is maybe run in circles and flap my arms. I will never get off the ground.
The embarrassment I feel is an extension of my rock-bottom body image. Constantly stressing that I wear clothes badly, sucking in my stomach, making frequent trips to the bathroom just to make sure there's nothing on my face, I am the ultimate physical neurotic. How can I be expected to dance?
It would be very easy for me to say "oh, you know how us white guys are!" But I don't want to be like that. I don't want to resign to the fact I am a rhythmic idiot and never try to get better. But I don't know where to start. I don't know how to gain all the skills and senses I am currently without. There are no Elite Beat Agents to help me here. There is only me.
What would you guys do? Let me illustrate exactly how musically inept I am. In high school, I was in a mandatory chorus class. I was a baritone, so I didn't even have to sing the melody. In the middle of a song we were singing, my chorus teacher stopped us all. He pointed to the kid next to me, played a note on the piano, and told him to match it. He did.
He then pointed to the kid on the other side of me. He played another note on the piano and asked him to match it. He did.
Then he pointed to me. He played the note on the piano. My brain immediately fried. It was like being asked to define a word from a language I have never heard. Match the note, he said. And I couldn't. I didn't even know how to try. He just kept playing it over and over while I sat there sweating. Finally, he started making the note.
"Aaaaaah-" he said.
"Aaaaaah-" I said, totally off.
"AAAAAH-" he says louder.
"AAAAAH-" I say again, totally off from both his and my previous note.
We just stared at each other yelling "AAAAAAAH" while I randomly adjusted my pitch in an attempt to land on whatever note he was making. Finally he kicked me out of the class because he thought I was doing it on purpose.
He confronted me later and I told him I wasn't doing it on purpose. I really just didn't know how to make the note. All I could tell him was that the notes were different, not what they were or how to match them. He felt bad, consoled me, and then politely requested I drop out of chorus.
Which I did.
I have a ton of problems here and I definitely feel hopeless. I don't know how to dance and have no idea how to improve or where to start. I am having trouble being calm, cool, confident, and sexy, so I figured I would ask a bunch of gamers on the Internet.
I know the healthy answer is probably "who cares if you are a bad dancer?" But I'm currently drinking a Diet Pepsi in the shower as I hammer this out on my iPhone. I care that I'm a bad dancer and I want to get better to keep up with my girlfriend.
What should I do? This is my first Off-Topic thread, it's that important.