Two weeks ago at dance my friend who suggested lessons, who had been encouraging me to lead more strongly, was smiling her head off after tangoing with this shrimpy little blonde kid since he knew how to lead. When we danced right after that, she made me keep my frame pretty rigid around her, and it actually bothered me -- she's so small, and to dance properly her upper body really couldn't move the way I had her held, and the whole thing just seemed sexually violent, the way I would turn her that way and this way and it was like she had no life or will of her own.
This week we started waltz and cha-cha. I've always found it cute and not un-hot when older women hit on me, but there's a couple of them in the class that always seek me out to dance, and the firmness with which they grasp me makes me want to take a shower, since you just know they're going back home to think about me and touch themselves ad nauseam.
(It's interesting how dance class has taken me from being an abuser to being sexually harrassed... I feel like I can identify better with the range of human experience now, especially that of women. It's like on the days when I'm not quite hung over to the point where I have a headache, but I'm out of sorts all day, and it's almost like having a period, I imagine.)
I can take dance advice from the female dance instructor, but the male dance instructor I somehow feel competitive with and don't take advice as well from because I am somehow intimidated by him, though last night when everyone was waltzing in pairs he was just sitting back on the long laminate-wood folding table where the stereo equipment is set up, swinging his legs under the table and lip-synching to Sinatra's "Try to Remember" to no one in particular.
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2 comments:
You're the opposite of mamasita roja. You only love women.
I think it's true. I'm always very stand-offish to men, though there are rare exceptions, like Diezel, who I immediately got along with.
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