DANCING LIKE MY DAD
I have little proof in this assertion however, I passionately believe that Sophie Ellis-Bextor was thinking about me when she and Gregg Alexander wrote ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’. Perhaps even Genesis saw some footage of my exploits too, enabling them to title their famous 1991 track, “I can’t dance.” When it comes to dancing I have the following qualities: two left feet, a total absence of rhythm, and I can literally look like I am fighting a natural obligation to harmonize with the rest of humanity. Recently the term ‘Dad dancing’ has been added to the Oxford English Dictionary and is defined as, "awkward, unfashionable, or unrestrained style of dancing to pop music, as characteristically performed by middle-aged or older men.” On one hand, this literal classification was reassuring in that I can’t be the only guy on the planet who suffers this embarrassing social humiliation although on the other it gave no remedy. No magic bullet, no short-cut, and zero signposting to the promised land of composure, credibility, and class.
Not that I want to master the late Michael Jackson moonwalk, mimic John Travolta in ‘Saturday Night Fever’ or stomp the ground like Michael Flatley. I just don’t want to resemble a bag of potatoes caught up in a hurricane with a forced smile on my face.
