I just do not get it. When I was in 7th, 8th, and 9th grade we would have a sock hop once a week. I actually enjoyed dancing and had all kinds of puppy love and slow dancing to some great music from the mid sixties. It was mostly that slow dancing with budding breasts and teachers suggesting we should back it off, but is was simple joy in the celebration of youth. It was clumsy. There were some of the rich kids whose parents insisted they take dance lessons, but with me it was discovering my attraction to females.
However, something changed after 9th grade. Dancing seemed silly and contrived like some tribal dance of indigenous people. My wife and I enjoyed a slow dance, but I usually had to be pried from my seat at weddings and social events. I guess I felt like what had been a natural attraction to girls had been substituted by some kind of duty to dance. My bucket list now says I will die happy if I never dance again. The wonderful thing about age is memory. I have warm feelings about those junior high sock hops, and nothing but contempt for dancing with the stars. I am lucky that Mrs. Seaoat reflects some of the same feelings I have, and she also has fond memories of that puppy love stage, which now seems so contrived and obligatory.
However, something changed after 9th grade. Dancing seemed silly and contrived like some tribal dance of indigenous people. My wife and I enjoyed a slow dance, but I usually had to be pried from my seat at weddings and social events. I guess I felt like what had been a natural attraction to girls had been substituted by some kind of duty to dance. My bucket list now says I will die happy if I never dance again. The wonderful thing about age is memory. I have warm feelings about those junior high sock hops, and nothing but contempt for dancing with the stars. I am lucky that Mrs. Seaoat reflects some of the same feelings I have, and she also has fond memories of that puppy love stage, which now seems so contrived and obligatory.