Wednesday, January 11, 2017

Going Back to the Dance

Dear Chelsea, 

So, due to a host of reasons, but let's just mainly chalk it up to "health" and "work" and "personal," I've taken a hiatus from dancing, for what, about a year now? Yes, that sounds about right. So then, this begs the question: how to dance again? It seems like such a simple question, but it's fraught with many complex feelings. First, I've never been the "best" dancer (snort) even when at my peak. Now, after a year off, will I be hideously terrible? WHAT IF NO ONE WANTS TO DANCE WITH ME? WHAT IF I HAVE FORGOTTEN EVERYTHING? 

Second, I'm out of the habit now. How do I rebuild the habit? I don't have a partner who dances regularly, and my life shifted in that year off. I'm not as young as I was, and it's easy to get lazy, and well, the venues closer to me are waning in popularity, so that's a challenge as well.

Third, while I don't owe anyone an explanation, I've been missing from the dance floor, the internet, and the scene for about a year, with very little word, and there will be questions, most likely. How to handle? For all that I appear to be an open book, I'm often not—I'm good at deflecting, so I don't have to discuss things with everyone, but people do not like being put off. Additionally, I gained 40+ pounds, and I don't look the same. I can't very well expect to show up after disappearing for year without a trace, and not to have to answer to someone, I suppose, but the IDEA of it has kept me away more than once. What do I even say? I don't want to be the sad trombone ruining the music for everyone. And moreover, sometimes once I start talking it's word vomit everywhere and I can't stop myself. What do I do? 

Dear reader,

Let me address your concerns one by one, since you so kindly laid them out for me.

What If No One Wants to Dance With Me

Ah, the fear that no one wants to dance with you is shared by dancers everywhere of all skill levels. And yet because you used to be in the dance scene you know several truths universally acknowledged about why a person isn't dancing at any given moment:

  • The lead–follow ratio is off and it is hard for dancers of the other role to have a chance to ask you because other more aggressive dancers are asking them first. 
  • You are hiding in a corner far from the floor looking like you do not want to dance (e.g., nose in phone). 
  • You have gained a reputation as a creepy dancer or a dancer who is so rough they hurt other dancers (or both).  
These reasons are either not personal (a numbers game, or about where you are standing) or are about gargantuan excesses of personal offence that I, from knowing you personally, know you do not begin to approach. So if you go to a dance and stand near the dance floor and no one dances with you, it's not you; it's the numbers game. 

Your friends don't care how bad your dancing is, and strangers don't know how bad your dancing is, so your fears that your bad dancing will keep people away are in your head.

What If I Have Forgotten Everything

I doubt you've forgotten everything, but if you have, they have classes for that. I also hear that those classes are a great way to meet dancers and make new friends who don't need to ask you about where you've been for the last year. There is no shame in brushing up on your skills! Or, you could take a private lesson to brush up on your own. But you knew this already.

Habits

There is a wealth of literature about how to build a habit, and I will assume that you are perfectly capable of googling "how to build a habit," so instead I'll address what I think is the real issue when you bring up habits and concerns about age, laziness, venue proximity, etc.: that you are using "I'm out of the habit" as an excuse not to go dancing. Why does dancing have to be a habit? Can't you, on any given night, decide that you want to go dancing or that you want to stay home and play video games or that you want to do any number of other things? If you want to go, go. It doesn't have to be a lifestyle choice. 

It's clear to me that, despite your fears, you miss something about dancing, whether that's the people or the activity or both. So why not look at dancing as an opportunity to reconnect with friends during which you might dance? Message a friend to see whether they will agree to show up to the same dance as you. The friend will serve as an anchor to help you feel more comfortable coming to a dance, because you won't be going back cold. Or invite a dance friend to do another activity to strengthen those bonds before you try to go back to a dance. 

For the dancing itself, set a nice low bar. Perhaps you might ask one person to dance the first time you go back. And you will have your conversation with your friend. If after that you feel uncomfortable, you can go home, and you can try again another time if you want. There are no dance police who evaluate each attendee on how much they danced and with whom, what time they went home, etc. Compared to never going dancing again, showing up, one dance, and one conversation would be quite an accomplishment! Start simple. 

Explaining Yourself

I agree that you don't owe anyone an explanation, but I disagree with your phrasing that you should have to "expect to answer to someone" because of the length of your absence and your changes in physical appearance. 

People ask questions as a way to start a conversation. People follow predictable scripts. If they have just met you, they will ask, "What's your name?" and "What do you do?" and maybe "How long have you been dancing?" If they haven't seen you in a long time, they will ask "What have you been up to?" or "Where have you been?" 

So I absolutely do think you will encounter these questions, but only because people feel compelled by social scripts to ask them. Mostly, they are trying to make you feel good by asking after you instead of rudely ignoring your long time away. They also (gasp) are probably genuinely interested in your well-being. 

Here are some thoughts on how you can answer these questions succinctly and without getting too personal for your comfort: 

  • Question: "I haven't seen you out dancing in forever! Where have you been?"
  • Answer: "I took some time away from dancing for health reasons and because I was really busy at work. Tonight is my first night back and I'm excited but a little nervous. What have you been up to lately?"

  • Question: "Oh my god, why did you gain 40 pounds? I'm definitely not dancing with you now."
  • Answer: Wait, this question is a joke. No one with a shred of social decorum would ever ask you about your weight gain. They might notice if they know you well (and the ones who don't know you won't know the difference), but they won't ask (or, if they do, brush them off and tell them its personal and to mind their own business).
  • Answer part 2: Whether you talk about the weight gain is up to you. If you want to bring it up, you could say, "I took some time away from dancing for health reasons and because I was really busy at work. Tonight is my first night back and I'm excited but a little nervous, especially because I gained some weight [and I'm not sure how my body dances anymore]." Then the person will most likely make a sympathetic remark and you can say, "Well, enough about me—what have you been up to lately?"
If people ever press, all you have to say is, "I'd rather not talk about it, but thank you for asking. How are you?"

Getting Over the Hurdles

All of the reasons you identified in your letter are hurdles you're setting up for yourself because you're nervous and scared. It's alright to be nervous and scared, and there are things you can do to manage those emotions. Connect with friends ahead of time, be nice to yourself about your expectations for how often you will go out and where and how much you will dance while there, and come armed with a few sentences to answer the social script questions when they come up. You might even practice the social script questions with your friend ahead of time. 

You're not going to be a sad trombone and ruin the music for everyone. For one, it would take superhuman effort on your part to be such a sad trombone that you ruined the night of everyone at the dance venue. You'd probably have to commandeer the microphone and overthrow the DJ. You didn't mention planning a dance coup in your letter, so I can only assume you plan to interact on a human scale.

To a degree I think if you practice the social script you can prevent word vomit from running amok. However, if you find that once you start talking, you keep talking, this might just be the way you are. I guarantee that if it is the way you are, your friends already know this about you and they still like you. If you can't keep yourself from talking even though you want to, the thing you should do is to work to accept yourself and love yourself the way your friends already do. And people you are just meeting may think the word vomit is a little odd or a little much, but it will not ruin their night. You are a piece of the puzzle, just as important—and unimportant—as anyone else.   

Above all, take it one day at a time. The first time back is the hardest and then it gets better from there. I hope to see you out dancing. 




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