I bet that you look good on the dance floor!
On Friday I ventured out to National Pop League at the Woodside in Glasgow. I love the atmosphere at NPL. The music is great and it's the type of place where you can dance alone and no-one cares. So cue much silly dancing from me. I couldn't help but notice an amazing dancer, but by the end of the night he was swept away and hidden by countless others. Up until the dance floor became mobbed, I watched him in fascination. His moves were circa Joy Division and started with a shake in his hand, a twitch up his arm and a pulsing jump when the beat kicked in. Amazing. I tried dancing next to him, perhaps he'll give me eye contact and shimmy with me, I thought, but alas no, he was happy in his electric world. I found myself wondering where he learnt to dance like that. Is it a natural rhythm, an instinctive move he has, ready to burst out on cue to The Smiths? I would estimate his age and then I could place him in an era, a time that makes sense – ah, ok he's 25, so he was a Britpop teenager. Or something like that.
But I've given up guessing the age of strangers. Lee has said some crackers. Once a very tanned Glasgow girl asked him 'how old d'ya think I am?' He estimated 37. She was 24 and devastated. That's the curse of sunbeds. And honesty. Another time a bloke in the pub asked the same question. Lee paused, thought about this guy's enthusiasm for Dire Straits (he was, we gathered, a big fan) and guessed 36. He was 26. Ha, I thought, wearing white 80s trainers and a headband surely does age you.
So back to my man on the dancefloor, I looked for him when they played Madonna classic Borderline but couldn't see him. So instead, I attempted to pull off some of his moves. It was hard, but you see I'm a sucker for dance movies - Saturday Night Fever, Flashdance, Footloose, the scene in Napoleon Dynamite; I was even dancing to Calamity Jane yesterday. I just love it when the rotten dancer becomes queen of the dancefloor to a catchy, but naff song. I may have big feet and move like a dancing bear, but hey, I'm cutting some rug. Move outta my way!
But I've given up guessing the age of strangers. Lee has said some crackers. Once a very tanned Glasgow girl asked him 'how old d'ya think I am?' He estimated 37. She was 24 and devastated. That's the curse of sunbeds. And honesty. Another time a bloke in the pub asked the same question. Lee paused, thought about this guy's enthusiasm for Dire Straits (he was, we gathered, a big fan) and guessed 36. He was 26. Ha, I thought, wearing white 80s trainers and a headband surely does age you.
So back to my man on the dancefloor, I looked for him when they played Madonna classic Borderline but couldn't see him. So instead, I attempted to pull off some of his moves. It was hard, but you see I'm a sucker for dance movies - Saturday Night Fever, Flashdance, Footloose, the scene in Napoleon Dynamite; I was even dancing to Calamity Jane yesterday. I just love it when the rotten dancer becomes queen of the dancefloor to a catchy, but naff song. I may have big feet and move like a dancing bear, but hey, I'm cutting some rug. Move outta my way!
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