I've only danced with one person.
Once at a concert. It was more of, we're the same height and this is just swaying to really excellent music, how awkward and nice. He bought me tickets to that concert for my birthday. He knew it was my favorite band, and even if we were only planning to stay for the opening act, we ended up staying the entire night. We were halfway through the first group, Hunny, some local indie band no one knew. But I knew. My over analyzing mind had to hear an act before she went and saw them, because why go to a concert where you can't scream the words to every song. That's just crazy. And it was almost as if we were reading each others minds. I could practically hear him thinking, Yeah this is too good to miss. It was a good dance. We were close, and for once I wasn't worried about what others thought. We couldn't have looked any grosser than the girl in front of us dry humping her boyfriend. I would assume that was his title. I mean, to each their own. It wasn't like I thought dancing would be. But I guess you can't be 6 feet tall and feel comfortable dancing with another person. I was always taller at certain angles. I remember forcing myself to slouch the way I do when I stand by someone I care about. But even though my hip was cramping and I had to keep swaying or we'd lose momentum to the beat of "Afraid" by The Neighbourhood.. It was breathtaking. Like I said, it wasn't what I thought dancing would be like. My second dance was at the infamous winter formal. It was his formal, so he was the only person I really knew. I clung to him more than he probably would've liked, but he took it like a champ. He did his best to make me feel comfortable because he knew how anxious I was about meeting his friends, or finding myself left alone by the punch bowl and being forced to spike it with my own tears. (That didn't happen, he was a perfect gentleman). I remember this guy, this adorably handsome stud, had never even heard of the Cupid Shuffle, and I just thought to myself, Okay I'm the only white girl here that can dance. It's now my duty to teach him. Lets just say he gave it his best effort ♡ Then came the moment where it was every uncomfortable couples time to shine. The slow dance. I remember him in his slick black dress shirt, and 'coordinating-to-my-dress' maroon bow tie and knew that we had to be one of those couples. Because all I wanted to do was dance with him. It didn't matter if my dress was on the shorter side, and even shorter when I put my arms around his neck. Or that we were almost the same height, even with me in my (adorable and very chic) black flats. No insecurity and no judgement from the glaring teachers in the corner of the room mattered in that moment. He was mine. I was his. And it was nothing like I imagined. I felt like my waist fit in his hands, and my arms were designed for his shoulders. There was no toe stepping or spin fails. It was just good. We haven't danced since then. But we will. And I can't wait. Dancing with him makes you feel like that's the reason dancing exists.
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AuthorGrace Willcox. High school student. Likes to think of herself as cunning & witty. Probably isn't. Enjoy. Archives
March 2017
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