Dance Like Everyone's Watching

I am not a dancer. I could not even play one on TV. When friends want to go dancing, inside I want to curl up and die. Outwardly, I ooze confidence. "Oh, dancing?! Sounds awesome. Count me in." Well, count me off, actually. As in way off rhythmically. It's like I'm not even hearing the same song. Surprising, I know, considering my vast musical background and even vaster family history of everything musical. Sure, we can play instruments and some of us carry a mean tune, but when I think about anyone in my immediate family dancing, our only hope is my sister who was a cheerleader and once did an amazing interpretive dance to the sound of pots and pans in our living room. Me and my bros, well, we've gotten really good at holding cans of beer and commenting on the abilities of others. The thing is, I wish I could dance. I was obsessed with So You Think You Can Dance for a while. I liked the title and the attitude and all those hip hop young people they peeled off the streets and forced to do the tango or the samba or the salsa (mmmm, salsa...). Those kids were amazing. I wanted to be like them so badly - the cockiness, the ease of motion, the feet flying across the floor. And not one of them did what I do. Not one of them had "my moves." I have two approaches to dance: basic and advanced. My basic move is sort of a rocking motion, slide right foot out and then back toward left foot. Keep hands sort of waist high and after two drinks, possibly raise hands over head and wave them like I just don't care (but still care). My advanced moves are directly related to the words in the song. If I can understand them (and after two drinks even if I don't), I will act out what's going on in the song. Brick House, I'm building a house and letting it all hang out. Shook Me All Night Long, I'm shaking (a lot). Paula Abdul's Opposites Attract is one of my best. I just take two steps forward and two steps back. I think these skills make me particularly popular at wedding receptions. If there was a show called So You Think You Can Dance: Weddings, I would audition for it. I'm that lunatic who sprints to the floor for the chicken dance, the macaroni, the electric slide, hokey pokey and anything Billy Ray Cyrus. Locomotion? I will be the engine, the caboose, a random car, the hobo, whatever it takes. I am in my comfort zone when the lyrics inspire action, unless of course they call for dancing like a normal person. Then I'm stumped. Like that song that goes something like dance like no one's watching. The whole reason I do what the words say is because everyone is watching. Duh. The closest I've come to dancing with a professional was blue hair night at The Continental on Route 1. The band was a guy with a saxaphone and a seemingly endless selection of mixed tapes. Or was it fake Elvis night? Can't remember the song, I just remember leading and not leading and then trying to lead and realizing my idea of leading is just squeezing harder and taking bigger steps, but Jen was a sport. She's an amazing dancer and has that fluid way about her that makes you feel like your ass just bumped a Precious Moment off Grandma's end table. Circumstances threw us together on the dance floor (gin-induced argument between our significant others - we just wanted to be anywhere but there), and I wish I'd gone a few more songs. Maybe I would have learned something. But I guess dancing is like math. Either you know it or you don't. And in the end, if you don't, you can always write about it.