D a n c e w i t h m e

She was dancing to a Drifter’s song. Twirling this way and that. I watched her from a spot in the corner of the bar. My friend stood next to me whispering something about his drink. I wasn’t listening to him. She had red hair and soft blue eyes. Her body followed the rhythm so easily that I wondered if she were somehow within the song.
I’ve loved dancing ever since I could walk. It’s fun, but it’s more than that. It’s freedom and joy. It’s your heart leaping out of your body. It’s movement with no purpose and every purpose. And the way this girl was dancing spoke to the deeper and shallower parts of me.
I walked up to her with my friend a step behind. She was with a friend. They were laughing and gyrating. I didn’t say anything. I just started dancing. At first, she gave me a weird look. Then she laughed and turned in my direction.
I moved to the right, then the left. I shook my hips. I flipped my hair. I laughed and smiled. She moved her hips and threw her arms in the air. She grinned and winked at me. I felt alive. I wanted to feel like that forever.
We danced for what felt like hours. There was a look of joy — pure joy — on everyone’s faces. If the music never stopped, I wouldn’t have minded.
Dancing has always been kind of spiritual for me. It’s an expression of who you are. The fact that I don’t know how to dance “for real” makes it better in some ways. Don’t get me wrong; professional dancing is incredible. I just love watching people who don’t know how to dance, dance. Every move is unexpected, sometimes even to the person making the move. But it’s authentic because it’s coming from them, and only them.
Halfway into the last song, the girl with red hair and the soft blue eyes stopped dancing. I asked if she was okay. She smiled and nodded.
“I’ve never seen someone dance like you,” She said.
“What do you mean?”
“You just — well — you dance like you love it.”
“I do love it.”
She smiled again. Her friend and my friend had stopped dancing. They were flirting a foot away.
“Can I get your number?” I had been wanting to ask her for it the whole night.
“No.”
I shifted uncomfortably.
“I want this night to stay the way it was.” She kissed me on the cheek, turned, grabbed her friend, and left.
My friend stared at me. “What just happened?”
“I don’t know.” But I was smiling when I said it.
