For nineteen years I managed to hold to that overly butch sentiment where men don't belong on the dancefloor. I have absolutely no idea what the guys continue to slip me in my drinks, but apparently now that has changed. It's a shame and a fortune all in one.
It's a shame because it means I've finally tripped from my course of ignorance towards the dancefloor. The most dancing I've ever done was back in middle school when they taught us waltz in P.E. and that's about it. The twitching in my room to the beat of one track or another does not count. I'm not in front of anyone then and I can feel relaxed while doing it without anyone commenting on it now or ever.
But that brings me to the fortunate side of it. Me boogying down on the dancefloor is a sign of higher self-esteem than I've ever had. Years of being bullied in elementary tore down what charade of confidence I had and forced me into building walls that removed me from the most common types of social contact. I had no need of it because I had myself, the security of familiar places and social circles and I had a long-distance thing - I say thing because I'm not even to this day clear on where we were on the relationship scale at certain points in time during the long seven years when we knew each others - with a certain Norwegian girl. I had what I needed, and what I wanted was too far away to grasp, so I had no real interest in stepping away from that charade of a life. During the last two years though, this has changed entirely. My world has flipped inside out and upside down. She's done with me, the security of those familiar places has become utterly boring and the one person I could trust (which would be me) has let me down.
I have at the age of nineteen come to the crossroads of solitude inside walls I've built to protect myself from life or slipping through the cracks in the wall to see what it's like outside for a change.
"I am what I am, so fuck you if you don't like it"
The confidence and self-esteem to recognize myself as worth something is a great moment for anyone. Anyone who has been bullied knows that feeling of doubt and occasional self-loathing. Getting away from that is an extremely liberating experience.
It's a shame because it means I've finally tripped from my course of ignorance towards the dancefloor. The most dancing I've ever done was back in middle school when they taught us waltz in P.E. and that's about it. The twitching in my room to the beat of one track or another does not count. I'm not in front of anyone then and I can feel relaxed while doing it without anyone commenting on it now or ever.
But that brings me to the fortunate side of it. Me boogying down on the dancefloor is a sign of higher self-esteem than I've ever had. Years of being bullied in elementary tore down what charade of confidence I had and forced me into building walls that removed me from the most common types of social contact. I had no need of it because I had myself, the security of familiar places and social circles and I had a long-distance thing - I say thing because I'm not even to this day clear on where we were on the relationship scale at certain points in time during the long seven years when we knew each others - with a certain Norwegian girl. I had what I needed, and what I wanted was too far away to grasp, so I had no real interest in stepping away from that charade of a life. During the last two years though, this has changed entirely. My world has flipped inside out and upside down. She's done with me, the security of those familiar places has become utterly boring and the one person I could trust (which would be me) has let me down.
I have at the age of nineteen come to the crossroads of solitude inside walls I've built to protect myself from life or slipping through the cracks in the wall to see what it's like outside for a change.
"I am what I am, so fuck you if you don't like it"
The confidence and self-esteem to recognize myself as worth something is a great moment for anyone. Anyone who has been bullied knows that feeling of doubt and occasional self-loathing. Getting away from that is an extremely liberating experience.