Page 109 of Girls Will Be Girls
I never did that.
Then, when TikTok dances first became a thing, I was still in my girl-hatred era, so I never did that either.
While scrolling this morning, I came across another viral dance that seemed to be all over my feed. Usually, I’ll watch them all, jiggle my shoulders a little boogying along, thinking to myself“I wish I could do that.”, then I continue flicking through thinking the same thing with each version. I don’t know what’s come over me this morning, whether I’ve reached the next level of my transformation into a girl’s girl, or if I’m genuinely so desperate to distract myself from thinking about seeing Lou, but I’m actually learning it.
No surprises here, but I suck pretty bad.
Apart from the forced dance classes I’ve taken for my job, I’ve never actually done more than wiggle my hips in a bar.
It’s definitely not perfect, and I’m definitely not filming this, but learning it is surprisingly fun.
I’ve got the hang of the first part, so every time I replay the video of the three girls dancing, I perform half with gusto and then trail off into flailing limbs.
I started off in the living room, but after kneeing the coffee table three times, I upgraded to the back deck so I could really give it my all and not brutalize my rapidly aging joints. Coming outside to learn a dance felt a little stupid at first. I’m worried someone could walk past close enough to the fence that they’d be able to see me.
Doing things in front of people is just too difficult, especially something I’m terrible at like this dance. I have to push away the intense need to be the best at it and fight the embarrassment, so I don’t feel self-conscious enough that it makes me want to run away and live out my days in the cave systems of the Grand Canyon.
I hate feeling embarrassed. I hate feeling like people are judging me or laughing at me.
I always blush way too hard even for the smallest things, and then that instantly makes me even more embarrassed. It’s a vicious cycle. I’m trying to break away from feeling like this. Learn to not care what people think and be confident in myself. But it can be hard sometimes.
I always feel like I’m being watched, as if someone is judging me from somewhere, somehow. I wonder what if there are security cameras around and someone sees me. This thought occurs to me far too often for me to be considered sane.
Doing things like dancing in my backyard is good for me, it helps me smash away those thoughts and commit to not caring about anything but my own enjoyment. Because learning a dance that a lot of people have learned already and are doing right now makes me feel a part of something. Makes me feel likewe’re all just a bunch of cousins who made up a dance to show our parents and convince them to let us have a sleepover. We all get to be kids again for a little bit, in the best way.
And even though I’m huffing and groaning at the one part I just can’t get, I’m still loving this. I replay the video, determined to figure out this weird arm twist thing. I lift my arms, clap my hands, lower them to my hips, circling them around until I’m sideways, and then I let out a high-pitched yelp at the man grinning at me.
“Fuck.” I hold my chest. “Lou, you scared the fucking shit out of me.”
He’s leaning in the doorway on his side of the lodge, looking happier than ever.
“What you doing?” He asks.
“Oh.” I look over at my phone still playing the song on loop. “Nothing.” I jog over to grab my phone and turn the video off. “Just learning this thing.”
“It looked good.” He says. “Can you show me the full dance?”
I let out a nervous laugh. “No.”
He steps onto the deck. “Why not?” He grins.
“I haven’t learned it all yet.”
“Okay.” He nods. “Can you show me what you’ve learned so far?
“No.”
“Why?” He grins wider.
“Because,” I say. “It’s embarrassing.”
“There was nothing embarrassing about the way you just moved your hips.” He smirks.
I drop my head to the side and glare at him, which just makes him grin wider. He drops his duffel bag on the floor by the door, like he came straight out here to look for me when he arrived. He walks further towards me, drops his hand to my waist, and his lips to my cheek in a quick kiss.
“Hi.” He says.
I look up at him, feeling like I could audibly gulp at our proximity. “Hi.”
