December 29, 2006
I recently attended two wedding receptions. Both events were loaded with the customary food, beverage, lively conversation and awkward moments staged for the photographer. Unbeknown to most, federal law also requires that every wedding reception hold a dance. And hold a dance they did!
Dancing brings out the best and worst of the human condition. It liberates your inner self or it enslaves you like prison walls. Like the two sides of a magnet, it either pulls you in, or it totally repels you away. It reduces mankind into two very distinct groups: those that love it or those that hate it.
No one falls in-between.
Without question, females are dance lovers. Males, not so much. Gender differences on dancing seem to become even more entrenched as one ages. The first shot in the battle of the sexes was almost certainly over dancing.
Anthropologists have uncovered early hieroglyphics suggesting that within nanoseconds of Man’s ability to walk upright, he invented The Twist. Centuries before the electric light and the Clapper, dance floors were popping up everywhere. But I digress.
Back at the reception; the opening strains of “Play That Funky Music” create a frantic rush to the dance floor by dozens of normally calm, if not stoic, women. Their male companions, knowing the tortuous, endless ritual to come, immediately seek shelter from the storm by hiding behind the buffet line or the tables across the room. Others begin a desperate search to find a “game” on TV. Any game. A re-run of a 1993 high school volleyball game will work just fine, thank you.
With each passing tune, the two sides dig in for a long, long night of social warfare. Women dancing with women. Women dancing with children. Women dancing with anything that will dance with them. But that isn’t enough. Like a slow rabbit chased down by a sly fox, an unsuspecting male accidentally strays too close, is grabbed, pulled in and surrounded by crazed, dancing women out for blood. Sadly, after a valiant struggle to free himself, he is devoured by the dance vortex, never to be seen again. Revived by their recent kill, the women dance on with a renewed sense of purpose.
Frightened, but now more determined than ever, the men continue their aggressive resistance, circling the wagons even tighter. Men talking to men. Men eating cucumber finger sandwiches! Men watching "Jeopardy!" reruns. Men talking with ring bearers. You get the idea.
Ironically, during “daylight hours”, many of these same men claim to be music lovers. But when Don Henley reminds them “all she wants to do is dance”, they run like frightened antelopes.
Yes, every weekend somewhere, a group of women are dancing and a group of men are not.
Women’s attraction to dancing is more than the love of a “primitive beat”. Conversely, men’s distaste for dancing is not simply a “macho” thing. (And while I’m on it ... gals, if your date acts likes he actually enjoys dancing, don’t kid yourself. He’s dancing for absolutely one reason and one reason alone.) But that’s another column altogether.
Several hours later, the DJ mercifully announces the “last dance”. The women groan while the men come out from hiding. My wife is somewhere amidst the dancing mayhem. KC & The Sunshine Band are extolling the virtues of “getting down tonight” and I search for one last cucumber sandwich.
Comments
Artemis (anonymous) says...
W~You forgot to mention the "man's dance" I believe it is called, "The White Man Underbite". This is when you guys hunch your shoulders, jut out your bottom jaw, and bob to an entirely different drummer. White men can't dance it is genetically pre-disposed.
Great story.
~@
December 29, 2006 at 2:41 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
Herbert (anonymous) says...
Long-time reader...first time writer...
Great blog. My only criticism...about 20 words too long.
December 29, 2006 at 2:42 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
patmcq (anonymous) says...
There's so much to be said for elopement or destination weddings on some tiny beach where there's no room for a rumba.
January 8, 2007 at 9:13 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
aleary (aleary) says...
I hadn't been to weddings for a while, but now the next generation in my family is getting married.
Those same patterns are still there, and hold true for the younger ones as well (except with that caveat you mentioned I imagine). My husband still likes his one step the best. One step and he's outta there.
January 10, 2007 at 2 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
Jen (anonymous) says...
Funny stuff, Warner Lewis. Funny stuff. Keep it coming!:)
January 11, 2007 at 2:39 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
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