For a number of years during college I had an “on-and-off again” girlfriend we’ll name Jan. We were better friends than an actual couple, but at times even that was a strain due to some actions and behaviors. During a time when we were not dating, Jan called me up one day and asked me if I was interested in going to a Blues Dance out at Western Washington University in Bellingham. I didn’t have any plans that weekend and I enjoyed blues dancing, so I agreed to accompany her. My car got better gas mileage, so we took it for the lengthy drive there and back. This trip our conversation was light, and we had pleasant discussions along the way. Eventually Jan made a point in reiterating that we were currently not dating, and not to be offended if she spent most her time with some other guy(s) at the dance. It seemed perfectly fair, even though I’m not as outgoing and social as her, which meant that I’d likely be spending most my time awkwardly failing at making new friends.
We arrived at the campus, parked the car, and we made our way to the hall where the event was located. It seemed well populated with mostly college students, but also many people from Seattle that had made the trek out there for the dance. Almost immediately Jan skittered off to socialize with a social group I didn’t have any association with, and after a few awkward moments of tagging along, I received a glance from Jan that I wasn’t particularly welcome. I retreated to a different location and casually conversed with a few people. I didn’t really have much in common with anyone there other than an interest in blues dancing, which opened into a dancing subculture rabbit-hole that seemed to be almost religious in nature which I didn’t have the necessary interest in, or simply lacked the drive to invest the amount of time required to gain acceptance. On occasion, Jan came over and we’d talk for a bit. She’d complain about some others, share gossip, and we got to share few dances along the way. Eventually she found a tall handsome guy who obviously spent more time dancing than the vast majority of people there, and she gravitated towards him for the remainder of the dance. This guy and Jan were good dancers, and they appeared to be having a great time together and I didn't want to interfere.
I spent the better portion of my time trying to be social, but after failing repeatedly at that, I found that a non-verbal communication of dancing was a far more effective method of expression that I could relate with others there, so I stuck with it. One curious sequence of events that evening was the matter of my “smell”. One dance partner asked me what I was wearing, referring to cologne. I wasn’t wearing any, and my deodorant was pretty mild, and didn’t really have much of any scent either. A few dances later I danced with another girl who later approached me and begged me to tell her what type of cologne I was wearing so she could get some for her boyfriend. Again, I explained that I wasn’t wearing any, and she pouted with frustration. It seemed very odd, as this had never happened to be before, let alone twice within an hour. As things started to settle down for the evening, the crowds seemed to diminish a bit, and an increasing number of couples paired off and left for the evening. Trying my best not to be a "creeper", my eyes kept gravitating towards a young woman wearing a sleek form fitting red dress, and had amazing dancing skills. It was easy to get lost watching her, as her movements were smooth, and it was difficult not to become captivated as a spectator. I only saw her dancing with those guys who had intimidating dancing skills, and who were far more attractive than I. I felt there would be a zero probability that she’d ever agree to dance with me if I had the nerve to ask. Or, if I managed to ask her, there was a small chance she might agree, but end up realizing I wasn’t quite at the same tier of skill, might end up having a miserable time for the remainder of the song. I had experienced that sort of behavior dozens of times in the past when I asked someone do dance who was “out of my league”, and this young woman was likely waaaay out of my league.
There were few people on the dance floor at the end of one song, and I was seeking a partner, but didn’t really go out of my way to approach any, as I had danced with most available follows there. I would be content sitting out the few remaining songs out before the end of the dance, while Jan was happily flirting and sitting on her new friend’s lap at the tables lining the perimeter of the dance floor. The song, “Why don’t you do right” started playing (sung by Jessica Rabbit in Who Framed Rodger Rabbit) and before I knew what happened, the woman in the red dress approached me, asked me to dance, and led me by the hand. I was stunned, but I staggered in her wake as we went into the middle of the dance floor. I was a bit intimidated as I knew her skill far exceeded my own, and being on a near vacant dance floor we were the immediate center of attention of most people there. We started to dance, and she responded in a near effortless fluid connection to me. She was flexible, nimble, and extremely graceful in her movements. I became more relaxed and confident to allow myself to express myself through my legs, hips, weight shift, and movements.
One side note about Blues Dancing for those unfamiliar with it. From an outsider’s perspective, the dance looks very dirty, as it appears couples are connected at the hips. Actually, dancing couples are connected by the inner thigh/leg where they are able to detect weight shift that way in a crouched position. The “fun naughty bits” are a ways away from any contact in normal blues dancing….. yet a woman could very easily make it a far more intimate and provocative dance if she were to reposition herself closer. That is what this woman did after I swept her out and inward during our dance. I was rather alarmed, as never had I ever expected this to happen with any girl there at the dance, let alone this woman way out of my league. She seemed captivated with the dance, and with desire. She placed her face at my neck and inhaled deeply, then genuinely asked, “Wow, what are you wearing? It smells really good.” This was the first time and only time I heard her speak aside from asking me to dance. I replied, “Nothing really.” I couldn’t see her face, but I could feel her deep breathing against my slightly sweaty neck and shoulder. Words seemed useless at that point anyway.
I can only describe the remainder of the dance to be by far the most fluid, exotic, and stimulating dance I’ve ever been a part of. During which, I could hardly tell that we were the focal of the entire audience and most other dancers until the end. We put on a show for sure. Her dancing was seemed to express pure refined carnal desire, and something I would never have expected from someone like her reacting to my clumsy self. Eventually the song ended far too soon, as I wanted it to go on forever. I felt her exhausted weight against mine as our bodies seemed intertwined and feeling like we had no boundaries between us. I was intoxicated with her and the dance we just shared, and she seemed to reflect the same feeling. Even after the song had ended, she was hesitant and reluctant to release me from her grip.
I looked over her shoulder to see dozens of eyes upon us, including hearing a guy’s rogue cat-call of admiration. Within the crowd, I discovered Jan approaching with a face frozen in a scowl of disapproval and jealousy. She appeared to be furious. Before I got a chance to ask the girl in the red dress her name or where she lived, Jan had approached me and exclaimed, “I want to go home, let’s get out of here.” As I was tugged away, I thanked my partner for the dance and excused myself. Her expression I couldn't quite place, but hinted possible elements of thankfulness and attraction. Somewhat like a feeling if you had finally met a best friend, but would never see them again, could be moderately close. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, the way she moved, and the way we danced together. It was more fluid than any other dance I had been a part of, and nothing in the years following of dancing have I ever experienced anything like it. I almost was able to tune out Jan’s nagging complaints about the dance, even though she appeared to have a fantastic time up until that last dance. There were several passive aggressive jabs on the way to the car, and upon leaving Bellingham. As soon as we hit the interstate, the remainder of the drive she was as quiet and as cold as ice. I knew her long enough to know when it was a wasted effort in trying to talk when she was upset, especially about exposing a clear double-standard she had in our “relationship”.
Unfortunately, I never saw that woman ever again, nor experienced a dance even remotely close to it, but I'll never forget it.
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