Friday mornings at Stroller Strides we have music for our workout. It was great - it is so much easier to be in searing pain from squats when you have a soundtrack.
And it wasn't just any music. No.
It was the music of my early adolescence. Nothing could possibly take me back to awkward (and usually ending in tears) junior high dances like C&C Music Factory. You know. EVERYBODY DANCE NOW!
Junior high dances - damn. Who came up with that idea? Was it supposed to be some kind social conditioning to prepare us for the rejection and disappointment of adult life? Maybe the adults in charge were just sick individuals who reveled in pubescent drama.
Our dances were held in the school gymnasium. It was an old building, I think built in the 20's. And let me tell you, what a stench. Years and years of accumulated nervous acne ridden teenage boy sweat, the reek of cafeteria food that probably wasn't fit for a prison. Asbestos (I'm not kidding, I think there was an asbestos issue), old books, and lest I forget, really bad drugstore perfume/body spray. I rocked the Loves Baby Soft. Hollah!
Junior High dances probably all look much the same. Boys lined up on one side, girls on the other, till some couple goes out on the dance floor. And it was usually the BAD kids, the ones the chaperone's had to unglue, ones that were grinding all over each other, then sneaking off under the bleachers to make out.
Okay, yes, I was probably jealous. I had a little bit of an awkward stage. There was no grinding for me...sigh...
Eventually, most everyone would make it out to the dance floor. Hilarity ensued, namely, the running man, the roger rabbit, and someone doing the worm across the floor while everyone formed a circle and clapped madly. One guy even did the Russian kicks from Saturday Night Fever. And he was GOOD at it.
And then the torture. The dreaded slow dances.* Did I get asked to dance? Sometimes. But God forbid it was with someone I wasn't that into (and it usually was, because my crushes didn't know I existed), especially if they played the extended version of November Rain or Everything I Do I Do it For You. Especially awkward if you try to break away at the radio edit ending only to be pulled back in for the overly long ending. Ugh.
Then, the dance would end, and there I was, yet another dance down and no boyfriend. For some reason I thought I would magically be asked to 'go out' at a dance. I blame it on the movies of the 80's. Because no one, I mean NO ONE, can have a realistic outlook on romance when your points of reference are Lloyd Dobler and Jake Ryan.
We'd all go home, or to a slumber party, and painstakingly relive the evening's (or late afternoon's) events. She stuck her tongue in his mouth?! Did you hear he was caught drinking BEER in the bathroom!? OMG so-and-so is so HOT! We should call him and hang up like 50 times - God bless the days before caller ID. Truly.
And then we'd go to bed, claiming that the dance was oh so lame, but secretly counting the days till the next one.
*I had a friend in college who used to DJ, and he called his slow set 'The Erection Session'. Nice.