A gradual return

Thursday night I did something I haven’t done in ages - I went dancing. Even before covid times, this is something I had been doing very rarely. I can say it’s because of “the kids”, and that’s partially true, but the reality is more complex. When you go out partner dancing by yourself, you can really only have a good time if you have enough suitable partners to dance with. And as a follow, this is rarely the case. So I had found for years that I would get all dressed up, get a babysitter, leave my house at night, and walk into a club by myself and pay the entry fee, only to stand around all night and not dance. There would only ever be a handful of good guy dancers out, and gaggles of women who would grab them the second they walked off the floor for the next dance. Being naturally rejection-adverse and not competitive nor aggressive, I would just never get to dance. Nevermind the fact that, even if not dancing, you’re stuck dodging weird, creepy guys all night and made to feel extremely uncomfortable. So I gave up. You can see why I’m so interested in the concept of de-gendering this dance (everyone leads, everyone follows). It’s yet another area in which we women are artificially made dependent on men’s presence/aptitude/willingness to seek us out, and I’m not into it. 

So after having been asked to DJ at a place that’s been having a largely unadvertised soft opening for a few weeks, and seeing that, hey, in addition to strict covid measures, there is also a very pleasing male to female ratio and plenty of people I know and like, I decided to try showing up as a customer. I had to skip a week because of a cold (tested - no covid) but made myself some dance shoes (bought adhesive suede on Amazon and stuck it to the bottom of some comfortable slip ons - who knew this was possible), put my big girl panties on, and went. And it was fun! I was very surprised to see that it felt like I had just danced yesterday - my stamina was good (thank you, long uphill hikes every day), my frozen shoulder didn’t bother me very much, and my muscle memory kicked right in. I will say I don’t have much confidence in my skills - these young people are so much better than we ever were - but, as when I was in school re: my relative smarts, I can confidently say I’m not the best dancer in the room, but I’m not the worst, either. I managed dancing in a mask all night, as well. I know this short Renaissance won’t last for me - invariably more people will come, plus more girls, and/or the novelty of my being there will wear off and people may not be as interested in dancing with me as they were that night. But I think for this moment I’ve found a safe place to dance for a little while once a week, and I’m pretty chuffed about it. My love for this dance has not diminished in the 25 years I’ve been doing it. It is definitely my longest and most passionate relationship.

This was supposed to be our first weekend in our cabin, and I’m pretty gutted that it wasn’t possible. Instead I drove alone to a wedding in a closer desert town, and just the wide open sky and desert breezes made me so full of longing to spend time out there-! When I try to think of the cabin and what it’ll actually be like, I kind of draw a blank. It’s possible the whole thing will be a total bust - my F’s coworker said he knew someone who did what we’re doing, and the place got broken into so much that she gave up and sold it. That is indeed my worst fear - that we’ll be subject to relentless vandalism and theft and just get fed up. I have to accept that this is among the range of possibilities. Zero progress this week; I didn’t even bother contacting the contractor since he had mentioned he wouldn’t get his crew back until next week. Sigh. 

In other news, I emailed the CA business website that used to have that grant I was looking for, and thankfully they wrote back to explain that no, it has not been canceled but will roll out later. It was supposed to open on Tuesday - clearly that’s not happening. And no indication of when it will roll out - which means nobody actually knows. It’s stressful, but at least it’s not gone. 

Here is a picture of me in a new hairpiece I got for dressy vintage occasions. I think it’s all about fake hair going forward - the little secret our forebears knew.