Sometimes other dancers and I discuss the importance of dating someone who is also a dancer.
People speculate:
- “Well, I’d prefer to date someone who dances.”
- “She has to be willing to learn how to dance.”
- “He doesn’t have to lindy hop, but he has to enjoy some type of dancing.”
- “She can do whatever kind of dancing she wants, but I’m still gonna lindy hop.”
- “I’d feel bad if he didn’t dance, too, since I enjoy it so much.”
When I dance, I often feel a joy that is similar to the exuberance of being in love. It’s wonderful.
We all want to share this feeling that comes from the delightful experience of dancing with someone special.
People continue to hope.
And, in the meantime, we continue to dance.
23 Aug 2007 |
I’ve never dated someone I lindy’d with - the community was waay too small (and incestuous!!). I almost feel as though that part of my life was something quite sacred to me, that dating someone who was into the same thing would then obligate me to share in one way or another.
I don’t know if that makes sense.
Comment by andrea | 23 Aug 2007 @ 6:04am
When I was growing up, my family had an old lady friend (nearly 100) who’d only been married once, for about three weeks. As each of my sisters and I began dating and considering marriage partners, she only had this one piece of advice: “Never marry a man who can’t dance.”
I’m guessing this was why her marriage didn’t last. ;)
Comment by Katy Raymond | 23 Aug 2007 @ 3:44pm
BTW, my old lady friend, whose name was Gracia, was the first female pharmacist in the state of Missouri. Quite an accomplished woman, with strict standards for prospective husbands.
Comment by Katy Raymond | 23 Aug 2007 @ 3:49pm
Hi - thanks for putting this into words. My husband died last year and I took up dancing to try and fill some of the hole in my life. its not Lindyhop - I am 60 and its not available - but I think I know what you mean about joy. Its not as strong as that for me - but I do feel a real physical and emotional pleasure when dancing - that is very special and certainly helps deal with the absence of someone who loves me physially as well as emotionally. And I come home incredibly high and satisfied in a way that is quite different to anything else I am involved in - so I guess he would at least need to know this experience,
So - if ever I find myself in another relationship ( not yet because I still am in love with my husband) he would need to accept that I want to continue enjoying sharing myself in this way with others.
Comment by maryp | 29 Aug 2007 @ 2:43pm
I know exactly what you’re talking about.
I started Lindy a little bit late - July of last year, at the ripe old age of 34 - and although I will admit to initially learning to dance in an effort to meet single available women, Lindy itself captured my heart and soul in ways I cannot even begin to describe.
It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing…
The problem for me is twofold:
1. Almost everybody there is a bit young for me. I’m older than most of the instructors.
2. I don’t want to poison the well by hitting on people who are there just to dance, and becoming “that creepy old guy” that nobody will dance with.
On the other hand, it has become just as important to me that I am with someone who is at least willing to learn how to dance, and can find some level of passion for it. While I’d probably have to scale back my dancing if I ever have kids, I want it to be one of those things where we are willing to get a babysitter on a regular basis to go do it, instead of it being one of those things that gets left by the wayside.
Some people find God in religion; I’ve found God on the dance floor.
Comment by Thane | 5 Sep 2007 @ 9:42am
And I just remembered one of the reasons why I got into Lindy Hop.
Last year I watched the Japanese film “Shall We Dance?” for the first time. It’s a great little film, but there was one part that captured me - a part where they are talking about the implied contract between the lead and the follow. The follow is basically surrendering herself to the lead, giving him control over her for the duration of the song.
It’s not a one-way street, however.
In exchange for this surrender, it becomes his responsibility to guarantee her happiness and her safety - to the point where he is willing to injure himself to protect her from harm. I know not all leads do this, but to me it is a sacred commandment: thou shalt protect thy follow, and do thy utmost to guarantee that she experiences Joy on the dance floor.
I watched this film shortly after leaving a relationship that had been built on a foundation of fear, distrust, and loathing - and the idea of building a relationship on trust and responsibility appealed greatly to me, even if it was only a relationship for the length of a song.
Is it any wonder that I find myself seeking those same qualities in a long-term relationship?
Comment by Thane | 5 Sep 2007 @ 10:00am