It's actually taken me a while to come to this horrifying conclusion ( will my gay passport be revoked? ). It's not often that I go clubbing in the first place ( unlike party guys like AJ, Will and Duff :) ) so any opportunities I've had to wiggle like an epileptic trout have been somewhat limited. Despite humiliating myself by moving like a broken puppet shorn of its strings at some clubs, I was - till last night - blissfully oblivious to my obvious shortcomings. My ISO, for all his wicked ways, obviously knew the value of prudence when it came to such a revelation.
No, I wasn't dancing the night away with my friends. Far from it, I was actually on-call at the hospital. When it's late at night in the operating theatre, everyone tends to get a bit dull. Not even the thickest cup of java helps in perking me up at that time - working for more than 18 hours tends to numb even the most enthusiastic Stepford boys. Therefore late nights at the operating theatre you'd be forgiven for imagining that you'd accidentally landed at the nearest gay bar. No, there aren't any shirtless hunks in tight jeans shaking their booty and waving their well-muscled arms around. Well, there are mostly naked guys but most of them aren't in any position to shake anything. But close your eyes and you'll feel the ground-shaking, heart-pumping dance music gay clubs everywhere are famous for. Lest you think all doctors are dour, stern professonals, here's news for ya. There's a pretty fine stereo system in the operating theatre here and it pumps out ear-splitting music ( can it even be called music? ) all through the night.
It's loud enough for even me to start tapping my feet. Just as Frankie J started belting out some hip-shaking, thumpa-thumpa music, I realized.. dammit, I actually have two left feet that simply can't coordinate!
How could this be? A gay man who can't dance would be an affront to Mutha Nature herself. Obviously when God had been handing out the gay genes, I'd obvious missed out on the dancer-clubber gene ( along with the sexy-dream-sex-god gene but that's some other gripe entirely ) although I'd gotten the psycho-homemaker gene in spades. Damn. Some guys get all the luck.
Is it too late to get a refund on my genetic lottery ticket?
11 comments:
Hey Paul, just sign up for dance classes..... it is as easy as that.
You can step on both my feet while dancing away to romance....
You are not the only one with the dancer-clubber gene missing... But I am also lucky that the clubber gene is missing as well so I am not hurting :P
I hate Techno dance *music* anyhow...
We have an elderly lady (past retirement age) over here who loves going dancing at night clubs ... she got banned from one club a while back, because she kept smacking into other people while gyrating wildly across the dance floor.
Anyway Paul, dancing is about self-expression and communication. Perhaps you’re just much better at doing that through your writing and ordered household, rather than through the medium of dance. And for some people that’s quite sexy, y’know. ;o)
Who chooses the music in the operating theatre?
i once thought i knew how to dance. and then, i realised that i didn't really know how to dance.
meh, it still doesn't stop me from shaking my bonbon once in a while. i just try to stay away from mirrors and i even close my eyes just in case i make the mistake of looking down at myself.
FINALLY...another gay man that missed out on the gay dance boy gnene! ANd to think I though I was the ONLY one!
Dancing isn't an ability, its a state of mind!
A good cocktail (or cocktease) will always get you into the mood, regardless of your genetic disposition.
If all else fails, find a very crowded spot on the dance floor and methodically bob your head and twist your shoulders... (It worked last weekend). When anyone asks, simply say "There was just no room to express myself". Lead plated undies will come in handy to prevent the pinchers.
I guess I missed out on the dancer-clubber gene too, to the extent that I'm not that keen to go anyway. Just don't seem to be able to get past the self-conciousness that everyone around you can see your every move.
Signing up for a dance class without a partner? :( Kit, I am way too shy for that but then again, maybe Leggy Legolas might want to give it a try.
Thank God I'm not the only one who can't dance! But I have to admit I do like techno music sometimes, pete.
ru, I'm a pretty dominant kinda guy ( with a whole lot of mean ) so guess who chooses the music when I'm around.
aj! The cocktail suggestion bears some thought. Shall do that and pretend that I'm drunk so I can blame that for my uncoordinated feet.
klmuscle, no problem!
Paul
I'd thought it might be the surgeons who chose the music ... but then again, maybe your surgeons don't swan around thinking they're demi-gods. :o)
Did you mean lot of mean or lot of men? ;o)
Wish I could say it was a whole lot of men :) but it's just plenty of mean!
Paul
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