When I first moved to Benson and needed a social life, it was Craig and I. It mattered not bit to me that he is my son’s age. Friday nights were our night to go out and relax a bit. Whether it is dinner at Logans, a Rush concert, or sorting Goodwill cards, we always have a blast. This past weekend was no different. We had ourselves a night of memories starting with pub crawl on a rickshaw driven by my husband, followed by an improv comedy show in which we became part of the act, ending with an evening of dancing at a club in downtown Raleigh. It has been ages – make that decades - since I have danced anywhere other than a middle school dance or around my house.
Walking down the street to the club, I knew my clothing was sticking out like a sore thumb. I was wearing too much of it. Besides being half my age, all the women we were passing on the street were wearing skin-tight dresses ending right below the curve of their rump. Add to that, spiked heels and perfectly coifed hair and make-up. The men on the other hand were looking very GQ. Craig in his plaid Bermuda shorts and me in my gouchos (do they still call them that?) caused a few double takes. Or maybe it was the age difference between us….
Entering the club, we asked about a cover charge. “It will be $5 for you, but I will let your girl in for free.” Laughter erupted from the both of us within seconds. His girl? I have to wonder what the doorman was thinking. He’s a pretty good-looking guy. What is he doing with that older, overweight lady? Maybe it is a blind date…or she is his wing man…could they really be DATING?!
He was not the only one looking at us. Many others did as well. It is unclear if it was our lack of coming according to the clubbing dress code or the fact that I was easily the oldest person in the place. Things have changed quite a bit since I have done the club scene. Not only my Cyndi Lauper look-alike attire, but also what happens on the dance floor. Grinding was nothing new to me. I saw lots of that at the school dance in Uganda. The girls dancing together was no big thing. I used to dance with girls all the time. What we didn’t do was grind all up on each other. Watching the girls wasn’t the fun part, it was watching the men watch the girls and dance closer to get a better look. Or maybe hope to become part of the dance. Other men paid no attention to the show the girls were giving. Instead, they danced together on the dance floor. There was nothing suggestive or provocative it. They were just dancing for the sake of dancing. Back in the 80’s, the only place I saw men dancing together was the Tally Ho. (The local gay bar. Quite a story for another time.) Craig and I were lost in our own little world enjoying the music and the joy of the dance.
In the beginning of the evening, there were many prolonged looks my way from both men and women. I am pretty sure they were not looks of, “I wonder if she is available?” There was a time I would have been all concerned about what was going through their minds. Not any more. I caught their eye and gave them a smile wondering why I ever worried about what other people thought. As I danced, I looked around and saw an older woman dance on a stage like she was in a strip joint, looking back to see who was looking at her gyrating behind. I watched younger women and men trying to gain the attention of the opposite gender. I watched couples lose themselves in each other on the dance floor. I watched bouncers with biceps as big as my thighs situated around the room impersonating Dwayne Johnson.
I thought back to the clubs I used to attend almost 30 years ago. A smile lit up my face knowing that the 47 year old Mandie knows the joy of dancing whether I be the oldest person at a club dancing with a great friend; encouraging 7th and 8th graders to take a risk and let lose at a school dance; or expressing joy of life in my own house.
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