Dance-Date-Rape
I love dancing. I love dancing so much that I do it almost every damn day. Sometimes, I even do it by myself, when I'm alone, during special private moments. Mostly, though, I feel like dancing should be shared between people: Ideally, people who know and like each other. Or at least people who think that the other person is cool when they spot them across the room, like the way you probably would if you saw Lionel Richie at your cousin's wedding, or like the way you would hope Lionel Richie would feel about you if he saw you across the room at his cousin's wedding. "Hey man, that kid looks cool. Let's dance. Fiesta forever."
But sometimes, you just don't feel like dancing. Maybe you're like, "I hate this song" or, "I haven't had time to work on my moves" or, "I am wearing the wrong outfit for that dancefloor, as everyone else is wearing jeans and t-shirts and I had to come straight from work in a black sequined dress and high-heeled boots." Whatever it is, it's okay. You don't have to dance all the time. Sometimes, despite what MTV tells you, it's better to save the dancing for when you're really in the mood.
But sometimes people don't really get this. Maybe you're out with friends...maybe those friends have other friends who decide they want to get to know you better...maybe those friends of friends decide that the only way to do this is to make you dance with them. And maybe you don't want to dance with them - it's nothing personal, but c'mon, you don't know these people, and you've got this black sequined dress on and you hate this song and you're going to look stupid and you're not in the mood for it anyway and you know that if you give in and go out there with them that those girls are going to start dancing up on each other and you're going to - once again - be that lone girl out there who's trying to valiantly dance by herself and act like she's not the nerd who doesn't know anybody and doesn't just break out into moves from the "Beat It" video when she's feeling nervous and unsure.
So this is how you feel. And you have a right to these feelings. But then the friend that you came with - the one who's SUPPOSED to have your back in times like these - disappears, probably to once again make out with a girl he doesn't even really like. Then the friend that you're talking with gets carried off himself by a date-dance-rape gang. At first you kind of laugh - you can't help it, he never dances, and now they're making him, so this is hilarious - but then all of a sudden, they turn and start to go after you. "You're our Native sister!!!" They yell. "I belong to another triiiiibe!" You try to protest. "I'm not even enough to be legal!" as they pull you off your chair and almost literally carry you off to the dancefloor. You look at your friend: He has the same desperation in his eyes that you now feel. You suddenly feel awful for laughing. This is horrible, a nightmare...how are you guys going to get out of this? You try to fake them off - you do a couple of moves, half-heartedly, hoping that once they see you dance they let you go. "Fuckin' DANCE!" One of the girls yells. Your heart sinks - it didn't work. The girls are now holding hands, dropping it like it's hot, and you're standing there, like an idiot, in a black-sequined dress, wondering how it was that you ever loved dancing. Is this how everyone feels when you make them dance, too? God, all those years of buying Katy shots and then making her dance with you...you never realized how it might have made her feel. You are a horrible person.
Finally the song changes. You look at your friend, he looks at you. This is your one chance to get off this dancefloor alive. You do a dance step towards your table - just a sidestep, not that obvious, if anyone were watching you they would just think you were warming up to the song - and he follows your lead. You hold your breath as the two of you do a couple more - are they watching? if they catch us escaping, what will they do to us? - and then, as the edge of the dancefloor is in sight, you can't help it...the taste of freedom is so heavy on your tongue that you both break out into a walk/run to your table.
You try to tell someone. You feel like, Maybe I'll need to talk about this someday, even though I'm too traumatized to talk it about right now. You're thinking about the future. And your friend...he went through it, too. He might need someone to be there for him when he's ready to heal. So you text someone about it. You try to explain what happened, but it just ends up coming out all wrong. "I don't ever want to talk about this," your friend tells you, when you tell him that maybe you guys should tell someone. "I don't ever want to think about the date-dance-rape ever again." You nod, and turn your head, towards the dancefloor. You used to love dancing, you think to yourself. You used to love dancing so much, sometimes you didn't care who you did it with. But that was when you had a choice. Now, it all just feels different. Now you feel like...maybe, you don't want to dance anymore, ever. At least not until you can shake off this feeling...this thing that coats you now and will never really come off, like that body glitter your friend once jokingly sprayed you with before a date that one time. Powerlessness. That awful feeling of pretending that you're not mad, whatever, no big deal, while inwardly you're seething...how dare you spray me with that stuff when you know that it never comes off, not even after five showers, and now he's going to think that I put it on myself, and probably because I want him to take my shirt off which is even worse because he's kind of a bad kisser and I don't know if I ever want him to take my shirt off but now it's going to look like I do and I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY FRIEND.
Trying to throw off that memory, you play with your earring as you stare out the window, off into the distance. You look at your friend...he, too, is gazing off, lost in thought, memory. Your eyes meet, and then you follow his eyes back to the dancefloor. You watch, stomach dropping, as one of the girls on the dancefloor turns and looks at you. The song has changed. She nudges her friends and points over at you and your friend, and as she does, you know this is never going to end.
But sometimes, you just don't feel like dancing. Maybe you're like, "I hate this song" or, "I haven't had time to work on my moves" or, "I am wearing the wrong outfit for that dancefloor, as everyone else is wearing jeans and t-shirts and I had to come straight from work in a black sequined dress and high-heeled boots." Whatever it is, it's okay. You don't have to dance all the time. Sometimes, despite what MTV tells you, it's better to save the dancing for when you're really in the mood.
But sometimes people don't really get this. Maybe you're out with friends...maybe those friends have other friends who decide they want to get to know you better...maybe those friends of friends decide that the only way to do this is to make you dance with them. And maybe you don't want to dance with them - it's nothing personal, but c'mon, you don't know these people, and you've got this black sequined dress on and you hate this song and you're going to look stupid and you're not in the mood for it anyway and you know that if you give in and go out there with them that those girls are going to start dancing up on each other and you're going to - once again - be that lone girl out there who's trying to valiantly dance by herself and act like she's not the nerd who doesn't know anybody and doesn't just break out into moves from the "Beat It" video when she's feeling nervous and unsure.
So this is how you feel. And you have a right to these feelings. But then the friend that you came with - the one who's SUPPOSED to have your back in times like these - disappears, probably to once again make out with a girl he doesn't even really like. Then the friend that you're talking with gets carried off himself by a date-dance-rape gang. At first you kind of laugh - you can't help it, he never dances, and now they're making him, so this is hilarious - but then all of a sudden, they turn and start to go after you. "You're our Native sister!!!" They yell. "I belong to another triiiiibe!" You try to protest. "I'm not even enough to be legal!" as they pull you off your chair and almost literally carry you off to the dancefloor. You look at your friend: He has the same desperation in his eyes that you now feel. You suddenly feel awful for laughing. This is horrible, a nightmare...how are you guys going to get out of this? You try to fake them off - you do a couple of moves, half-heartedly, hoping that once they see you dance they let you go. "Fuckin' DANCE!" One of the girls yells. Your heart sinks - it didn't work. The girls are now holding hands, dropping it like it's hot, and you're standing there, like an idiot, in a black-sequined dress, wondering how it was that you ever loved dancing. Is this how everyone feels when you make them dance, too? God, all those years of buying Katy shots and then making her dance with you...you never realized how it might have made her feel. You are a horrible person.
Finally the song changes. You look at your friend, he looks at you. This is your one chance to get off this dancefloor alive. You do a dance step towards your table - just a sidestep, not that obvious, if anyone were watching you they would just think you were warming up to the song - and he follows your lead. You hold your breath as the two of you do a couple more - are they watching? if they catch us escaping, what will they do to us? - and then, as the edge of the dancefloor is in sight, you can't help it...the taste of freedom is so heavy on your tongue that you both break out into a walk/run to your table.
You try to tell someone. You feel like, Maybe I'll need to talk about this someday, even though I'm too traumatized to talk it about right now. You're thinking about the future. And your friend...he went through it, too. He might need someone to be there for him when he's ready to heal. So you text someone about it. You try to explain what happened, but it just ends up coming out all wrong. "I don't ever want to talk about this," your friend tells you, when you tell him that maybe you guys should tell someone. "I don't ever want to think about the date-dance-rape ever again." You nod, and turn your head, towards the dancefloor. You used to love dancing, you think to yourself. You used to love dancing so much, sometimes you didn't care who you did it with. But that was when you had a choice. Now, it all just feels different. Now you feel like...maybe, you don't want to dance anymore, ever. At least not until you can shake off this feeling...this thing that coats you now and will never really come off, like that body glitter your friend once jokingly sprayed you with before a date that one time. Powerlessness. That awful feeling of pretending that you're not mad, whatever, no big deal, while inwardly you're seething...how dare you spray me with that stuff when you know that it never comes off, not even after five showers, and now he's going to think that I put it on myself, and probably because I want him to take my shirt off which is even worse because he's kind of a bad kisser and I don't know if I ever want him to take my shirt off but now it's going to look like I do and I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY FRIEND.
Trying to throw off that memory, you play with your earring as you stare out the window, off into the distance. You look at your friend...he, too, is gazing off, lost in thought, memory. Your eyes meet, and then you follow his eyes back to the dancefloor. You watch, stomach dropping, as one of the girls on the dancefloor turns and looks at you. The song has changed. She nudges her friends and points over at you and your friend, and as she does, you know this is never going to end.
No comments have been added yet.
