Cuttin’ the Rug
Dang, can’t remember when I’ve had so much fun. And damn, fun is good! My body wakes up, and that does good things for my brain.
Willie Nelson gave me a hankerin’ for some country dancin’. (My daughter gave me a CD of him and his buddies doing live duets. Bonnie Raitt, Paul Simon, Emmy Lou Harris, Ray Charles even - his 70th birthday, and they rock out!!)
So I got there, to the bar, right on time. Unpretentious diner with a dance floor, but live country music every night (except the Thursday karaoke and the Sunday and Tuesday dance classes). The kind of place that looks like it serves grits. I love it.
Of course, I didn’t wait to start flirting. The bouncer’s a tall young fella, long pony tail, cowboy hat, friendly eyes. Good combination.
I asked if there would be plenty of people for me to dance with – Oh yeah, he says, they’ll be along shortly. Plenty. Big grin. Both of us.
He was right. My kind of crowd. Plain. No smoke. Enough old folks to keep it real. Not much costumery other that a few cowboy hats. And these folks Dance!
Each fella has his own style of leading. Some simpler, some fancy, some easier to follow than others. But sometimes there is a magical click when you fit together and move as one amazing, flowing, dancing creature. His arms guide me and we swish, glide, spin, duck, turn, grin and laugh. My heart sings. This is the way I want to play the rest of my life.
Lead me! Spin me, turn me, dip me, I follow, give myself to you. Never knowing what is next. Each moment is brand new. I am in heaven.
And then there are the eyes of the bass player. I’ve learned that musicians who play for dancers often play to the dancers – becomes like a duet of sorts, each responding to the other. It’s a fabulous conversation.
(Back in the days of barefoot boogies to hand drums - as a dancer, I always thought I was dancing to the drummers, until one of them told me that once they get going, he follows the pace of the dancers and never stops until they do. He considers himself in service to us dancers.)
Kinda like love making, maybe?
So of course it wasn’t long til I was in love with the bass player and his eyes. I let myself fall in – lust is so delicious!! When he turns around, I look at his shoulders and fantasize getting my hands on them, getting right up to his back and grinding. Yep, that’s me, the middle-aged gal riding the thigh of bass player.
And that damned long guitar neck – that he plucks like there’s nothing to it - I’d heard they looked phallic, but they never had to me - until now. Ye–haww! I’m laughing out loud at myself.
So yes, we have a duet, the musicians and me. And the rest of us.
There’s the young kid sitting next to me who says – You sure can dance! – so I grab his hand and out we go. Not a leader, this one, so we jump around and laugh. And his buddy, who is more hip-hop than country, is surprised that I can meet him there, too.
And the woman my age who I invite out for a blues-y number. We get our hips going like no one but real grown up women can do. I wonder if she knows how fabulous she is. I wonder if she has any one in her life who sees it. We thank each other for the dance.
Damn, it’s good to have your blood running!
4 hours later, as they are packing up and the bartender is taking last call, the fella next to me says - I guess they gave out before you did.
Apparently! I say.
The night air is cool and soft, and I am still grinning.