Somehow, every problem in life disappears on the dance floor. Pretty much, everyTHING disappears on the dance floor. Rex calls dancing my Nirvana. You know that state where you can empty your mind completely and just BE? Like nothing else even exists. It's just me and the person I'm dancing with, connected by the music. I've once been criticized for not smiling enough on the dance floor, but I feel like I am smiling. So maybe I don't have an ear-to-ear grin, but that doesn't mean I'm not having fun. I've often wondered why I don't, (and it's always been hard to force/fake a smile) until one day I was given an interesting compliment: a guy said to me that I always look so peaceful and serene when I dance. It's kind of a half-smile, but whatever.
Okay, so I'm not always in heaven when I dance. Like when I'm learning a new dance (currently two-step and the triple-two) or when I lack confidence in a relatively new dance (waltz, rumba, salsa, foxtrot). But even then, if I'm dancing with someone I trust will be patient with me AND is a good lead so that I can follow the steps I'm not familiar with, I am not so self-conscious and I am more at ease. I may not be in my nirvana place, but if I keep dancing and stop thinking/worrying, I can come close. It's when I allow myself to think that I get myself in trouble.
I also can't find nirvana when I'm dancing with someone who intimidates me because I simply cannot stop being self-conscious and relax. I tend to get tense, concentrate too much, and worry about messing up -- which makes me mess up. I can nail a dance step with another dancer, yet I will botch it up when I dance the same thing with a person who intimidates me. I do understand it's all in my head; just because a person is an awesome dancer doesn't mean he's going to think I'm terrible. After all, he asked me, right?
But there are lots of big egos in dancing, and not everyone is a gracious dancer. I know I was once a snob about lindy hop when I was in high school. I thought I was so great. Funny how I don't think I'm so great any more, but everyone tells me I am. Most of the men I dance with are so very kind. But there are some that are awesome dancers who I don't like to dance with.
I will use two men as examples who are great dancers, but I don't like dancing with them. One man is an excellent lead, but I've always been self-conscious since the first time I danced with him. He is only trying to be helpful, but when he tells me how I could improve a dance step I screwed up with him, I feel more self-conscious, especially since I never have a problem with that same step when dancing with a man I am not self-conscious dancing with. His tips would probably be helpful if I wasn't so worried he'd find something else wrong too. Sometimes I just want to dance to be happy, not to work on something; it would be nice if it was okay to make mistakes without trying to fix them.
The other one is also fun to watch but he likes to tease a lot, and I've never liked teasing. The way I see it, there is a half-truth to people's teasing or sarcasm, and even if it is meant in jest, there is a bit of a sting. When I'm nervous, I tend to rush, and when my partner critiques me while I'm dancing it makes me more nervous. To make matters worse, last night, he asked me to dance to a song that I just couldn't get into. You know when the music doesn't move you, and you try to dance to it, but you just don't feel it? [One (very nice) guy suggested that when I'm dancing to a song I don't like, I should concentrate more and count the steps. But that is exactly what makes me mess up! What a conundrum! The other school of thought (which I more relate to) has told me to stop worrying about steps and just interpret the music with my body.] My partner kept saying "I can't believe you don't feel the beat!" I felt like an idiot when he started calling out the beat: bom, bom, bom. I was butchering it worse and worse the more he kept at it. At the end of the song, I said I was sorry and he said with a straight face "you really could have done better." It wasn't his usual critique -- it was much worse. And I didn't even detect his usual sarcasm. Fortunately, he usually only asks me for one obligatory dance when I'm there. (NOTE: since then, I have improved, and he stopped critiquing me. Now I look forward to dancing with him.)
Last week, I went to Midnight Rodeo to try my hand at two-step for the second time. I still maintain that I learn best by dancing with someone who knows how to lead. Perhaps I'm cheating: relying on my following skills rather than taking a class. And perhaps the men who teach me by leading don't appreciate this short-cut. I was so embarrassed when I'd trip up my dance partner, which seems to be more common in a progressive (traveling) dance than a stationary dance. Usually, if I mess something up, we can just move on, but in a progressive dance, it appears that we have to regain our footing and start over. In a stationary dance, it's not very noticeable and recovery is easy, but in traveling dances, it is obvious and embarrassing!
I know that egos are fragile on the dance floor, and I try to be as gracious as possible. 3 minutes isn't going to kill me, even if it is painful to dance with someone. Some bands play really long numbers, and 6 minutes feels like it will kill me. Especially when that person felt like I was so nice that they keep asking me!
Well, at Midnight Rodeo I discovered that sometimes it is necessary to be rude. This one guy didn't pick up on my body language or my polite "I think I need a break." Not only was he coming on to me, but he was a horrible dancer! He kept switching from two-step to triple-two which I hadn't mastered yet but he evidently had just "learned" during the lesson prior to the dance. He kept saying he couldn't figure out the beat (to every single song) and he wouldn't let me go at the end of a song. I tried to be helpful by counting the steps and then I actually tried to backlead to help him out. I usually can't backlead (which is normally a no-no anyway), but I did my best and I was proud of myself. But he still couldn't get it and it was my turn to get my toes stepped on and get all tripped up. I had to be rude. I hate turning down dances, but he wouldn't leave me alone! I told him I didn't want to dance with him anymore. So then, he asked to buy me a drink. When I said I didn't drink, he grabbed my hand to walk me to my seat and sit down with me. (Normally, it is dancing etiquette to give a girl your arm and walk her back to her seat, but this was different. He clamped onto my hand and practically dragged me to a seat.) I told him he made me uncomfortable. He must not have heard me. I said it again and walked away. Was he brain dead? He asked me again a few songs later! Thank goodness a fatherly-type gentleman I knew from the West Coast Club was there to keep me on the dance floor away from the creepy dude.
I have heard that social dancing is like a conversation. Somehow, I am more tactful at this type of conversation than others. I tend to step on toes when it comes to words, but I would consider myself very gracious when it comes to dancing. I guess I should keep in mind that others may have a hard time with tactful dancing like I do in traditional communication.
***Really, there is a wrong way and a right way to help someone while dancing. Most of them are wrong. I'm really glad thankful another suave dancer lifted me up after my ego was utterly deflated and made me want to cry. I'm also grateful to the woman who danced with Rex after another woman stepped on his toes (figuratively) and made him want to leave. I really didn't want to go home that night and nothing I could do would have been adequate to make Rex feel better.
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