I miss slow dancing.

I remember my first slow dance ever in the sixth grade. Eliza and I held each other. We turned, we whirled—we got lost in each other’s gaze as time stood still and our eyes clashed in this streaming river of melodic revolving. We were young, we were silly, we were green with love, we were slow dancing…

I think Eleanor Roosevelt put it best when she said, “Slow dancing is the easiest, most awesomest thing ever.” The beauty of the slow dance was really the fact that you didn’t need an ounce of dancing ability to be proficient. When House of Pain’s “Jump Around” hit the track I could barely find the right beat to hop up and down to seem just remotely awkward in my movements, but once the DJ threw on the K.C. & Jojo (the quintessential slow dance song of my era) I was in my element. I was the regular prepubescent Casanova—teenage girls flocked to me and by teenage girls I mean girl friends of teenage girls flocked to me to ask me to dance with their teenage girl friends (of course).

The beat smoothed out; I just slyly shifted my arms into place and started swaying. Obviously, the classic slow dance was basic and any hormonal teenage boy could perform adequately but like any well honed skill there were tricks to the trade. I’ll admit Eliza and I enjoyed the classic full length arms dividing canyon between us as did Elizabeth, Lisa, and Mariko. But by the time Pam, Lily, and Jacqui rolled around my techniques were redefining the very dance genre I entertained. Believe me; I had a mishap here and there, a social faux pas every now and then you could say. A girl-hair in my mouth, a step on her foot--they were natural casualties of the Middle School dance war but over time I cultivated an art.

I introduced variations to the long beloved pre-teen pastime. I started with the hands. Moving away from the prehistoric hand-waist relationship I utilized a multi-position single song system with a softer Waltz-like frame cradle that allowed for a more free upper body variance. I pioneered the one handed open face mixer that invited open interaction with other couples as a short sabbatical to the single slow dance adventure. I even showcased the multiple partner slow dance circle that shined through with its delicate inclusion undertow to lure multiple shy female on-lookers into the Slow Dancing culture.

However, I am afraid to admit that Slow Dancing is a dieing language of love. Sure there were even shining moments through the later post-junior-high years. A memorable Winter Ball filled with carefully practiced slow dancing turns, releases, and retrievals but as time slides by it seems that the Slow Dance is becoming just a fleeting fad of yesterday.

It epitomized everything that was the awkward, the childish, the innocent, the eager, and in more ways than one I hope I can always keep that with me. Listening to John Legend’s “Slow Dance” as I write gives me hope that maybe someday the Slow Dance will return to my generation. But until then as Slow Dance opportunities continue to dwindle I’ll have to settle for revisiting those unrivaled, time-stopping, juvenile world-changing, 3 minute 38 second budding manifestations of adolescent flirtation in the music of my memories.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, February 14, 2007 at 1:31 AM. You can skip to the end and leave a response.