Dancing Queen
**From time to time, the urge to dance overwhelms me and having a boogie around my room or shaking what my mother gave me doesn’t quite cut it.**
When this desire strikes, I venture out into the wonderful world of Leamington nightlife with freshly stretched limbs and sparkly heels at the ready.
Unfortunately my need to bust a move on the dance floor isn’t always satisfied. There was a time when I was a committed advocate of a little bump ‘n’ grind, moving my hips to the rhythm of the beat with a boy trying to keep up behind wasn’t the worst thing. But this period started and ended in secondary school, before oestrogen and testosterone entered my vocabulary and turned innocent mixed-sex dancing into a lame attempt at foreplay.
Blame it on me spending most of my years of self-discovery in Dubai where even the smallest public display of affection is frowned upon and choosing to rebel in a way that involved less grinding and more secret international student chalet ‘get-togethers’.
{{ quote having a semi-hard cock knock into the small of my back at awkward intervals during a song is not my idea of a good night out }}
Say I take myself too seriously or throw around idiotic words like frigid but having a semi-hard cock knock into the small of my back at awkward intervals during a song isn’t my idea of a good night out.
Some of you will be reading this now not being able to comprehend what my problem is. Truth be told, it’s not so much a problem as a pet hate. To clarify, I have absolutely no issue with anyone who chooses to dance erotically with a partner, male or female – I just prefer the freedom that comes with me being able to move at my own free will.
As Miley Cyrus said, “I can’t be tamed.” In a totally non-Amara way, I’d much rather you watched me dance than grab my waist and confine the magic that’s trying to break free.
My nights out ALWAYS consist of me having to politely decline the advances of those who, despite two clunking left feet, still seem to think they are Danny Zuko. I’d be the first to admit that I’m no Beyoncé on the dance floor, and I won’t be dropping it low before my seventh Jägerbomb. What I will be doing though, is having a truly fantastic time moving to the beat in any which way I see fit, be it with my girlies or on a table without the pressures of having to look sexy. That just comes naturally.
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