Image thanks to Bob Mcgahan Photography
That guy who dances, yes that one there, can you see him? He doesn’t hang out with us much anymore; he’s outgrown us you know. He started dancing one night, just up and went to lessons. We didn’t think much of it at first; he started missing the midweek pizza nights. That was OK; we were just hanging around anyway. We called him a few names, a bit of ribbing, laughed at him a little, but he just sort of smiled, that smile you have when you are keeping a big secret from someone, honestly his grin was huge.
We asked him about this grin, his secret. He showed us a group photo of the people he danced with. Damn, there must have been twenty beautiful women and six guys. We all laughed at him again, what was he doing, he has two left feet, he is as nervous as hell around women, and honestly he wouldn’t stand a chance with women like that. He’d be hitting way above his league.
He started missing guy’s pub night, Friday night. He said he was social dancing now. We joked he must drink a keg or two to venture onto that floor but he replied with the strangest answer. “You can’t really dance when you drink.” It sounded all back to front to me except he never really drank much after that, just in case he had to dance. Who in the world needs to be ready to dance at a moment’s notice?
Before he quit our Saturday night meat market escapades he started doing more things decidedly out of character. He would be the first one on the dance floor and all the girls would follow him. He’s so smooth now, I don’t know how he does it. Every step on time, every sway flowing with the music like he didn’t even have to think about it. 20 women dancing with him and I swear if there had been a minister in the room they would have married him on the spot, yet he looked bored. He seemed to have given up the chase. We asked him why he didn’t ask for any of the girls numbers. He told us “They aren’t dancers, they don’t understand and they’re not …” He shrugged, he couldn’t find the words he wanted. We were all really worried about him now, he’s just our dorky mate. Six months back he would have thrown himself at any one of those girls for a little bit of attention.
But he stopped coming out with us on Saturday nights, Sunday nights too – game night. We hardly see him now. He drops by from time to time, always with stories from dancing. He doesn’t have much time for us anymore he says. We noticed he has 2000 friends on Facebook and we said he couldn’t possibly know all these people. But he does, he can tell us which girls he has danced with, which guys are the good dancers, we haven’t caught him out yet. It’s scary, how does anyone know 2000 people personally?
I saw him a few months back, well his photo anyway. He was in the paper. A couple of hundred of his friends decided to have a day dancing by the beach and a local journalist snapped it up. It looked like they were all having so much fun. I saw him again a few weeks ago. He had won a local dance competition and he was on the early news. He looked so tall and confident on TV. I guess it’s true what they say that the camera adds ten centimeters. He doesn’t look at all like the guy we used to know.
We get asked about him by strangers sometimes. Women will walk up to us in the pub and ask us where our friend is, “He’s dreamy” they say. “You should dance with him” they tell us. As if! We aren’t gay. “He twirled and twirled us and then we were so close and moving it was like having sex with clothes on” they mention wistfully. We laugh and say they must be talking about someone else. For some reason our laugh always comes out a bit forced though.
That guy who dances, yes that one there, can you see him. He’s a friend of ours, we have known him a long time but we don’t know him anymore. He changed. He isn’t a dork anymore, he hardly drinks, he doesn’t watch footy or do any of the guy stuff anymore. He knows everyone too, whenever we go somewhere there is always someone he greets, a guy he claps on the back, or a beautiful girl he hugs and kisses and says he promised to dance with them later on. When we see him now we all feel like we are at our parents’ house, as if we are children in his presence. He has outgrown us I think, somewhere in the last two years he became a grown up. I think he just keeps in contact hoping one day we will grow up too.
He teaches a class these days, he dragged me along one night. So many beautiful girls in the class and most of the guys, well they are all the boyfriends being dragged along, they didn’t want to be there. All those girls and they all wanted to be held close and just dance, dance with me. I’m wondering why I hadn’t done this before; it’s so much easier to meet girls this way. I warned him I can’t dance at the start of class but he smiled and said I will by the end. And I could, just the basics, but it was so thrilling to dance in time with someone else. There is something … I’m not sure what it is but, well, I think I’ll come back.