Grace has been taking me Contra dancing. And let me tell you, being single and flirty has never been this much fun.
On the outside, it looks sort of like
this. Theres a bunch of different commands you learn, like the gypsie or the right hand star or the do-si-do, and the band will announce a number of commands in a certain order. You'll repeat the commands in harmony with the tempo of the song (Grace swears that the melody is also a cue for where you're supposed to be, but I'm not quite that good yet). But since a 3/4 turn is usually thrown somewhere, you switch neighboring dance partners every time. You have one dance partner who follows you down the line the whole time, and one "shadow" that you never dance with but also follows you. On the outside, the dance looks very tame.
But I've never seen Grace flirt this much. And I'm pretty sure as I get better I'll be just as bad as she is.
It's all in the little things. For example, you keep eye contact with your partner to keep from getting dizzy in the spins - and only through contra do I realize there are a thousand ways to maintain eye contact. There's the "Oh, hi person I don't know. Nice day, isn't it?" look. There's the "Please help me, I'm new and don't know what I'm doing" look (I give that one a lot still, but frequently unintentionally so). There's the "I'm only harmlessly flirting, but you should know you're really good looking" look. There's the "I want your bod" look. There's the "Back off, lingering old man" look. And I'm talking strictly eyes. Smiles and other facial expressions open a whole other world.
And much like swing dancing, when you get good it's really fun to mix it up without throwing off the whole line. Guys will do more leading, like spins. That, and subtle, inappropriate touching that only you and your partner will ever notice. Of course, this and the eye thing take just as much practice as the dances themselves. Underdoing it locks you into boring dancing. Overdoing it scares the hell out of them.
Ah, what a fine time to be young.
until next time,
Chalkey