A Dancing Scamp

Everyone who knows me well knows that I hate to dance. I have no rhythm, I hate to look stupid in public, and I look like a flailing monkey when I make an attempt to dance. That being said, every now and then I forget that I hate dancing and allow myself a moment of foolishness in the privacy of my room. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, I always seem to feel better.

Today I feel like crap. I’m tired, I had a rough pain day, and I think I am finally catching the flu that the freshers have been passing around. I skipped dinner, missed my little bit of social interaction with my friends, and have not been able to concentrate enough to write 500 measly words on an article that I not only understood, but feel like I can critique intelligently. The girls did stop by to see me, and that improved my mood a little, but I still feel icky, and despite it not being a very good idea, I thought maybe a little dance party would make it better. Now, there are many many many songs that I could have chosen for the occasion. My usual go-to song is the Glee version of P.Y.T. I like it, and it never fails to make me feel better. Another favorite is The Mighty Mighty BossTones cover of Simmer Down. It is my all-time favorite song, and I could listen to it on repeat all day long. I did not go for either of those songs though, instead I went for this little beauty:

Thinking about dancing makes me think of one of my favorite moments with David. It was a rare moment with just the two of us at home cooking a late dinner. We had been discussing Scotland, and for awhile, anytime the topic came up, I got sad and mopey. He found this song and played it off of his phone while we danced around his kitchen.


When this song ended he played my favorite love song and instead of dancing we just hugged each other and swayed to the music, me singing along to the words.

It is one of the most sappy things I have ever done (and I hate all things sappy and romantical, but it is one of the few times where I did not mind the dancing, or the sappiness. I don’t really like to admit that I did something like that because it ruins my street cred, but then I like to remind myself of all the freshers I have threatened to kick in the teeth and I know I haven’t quite lost my edge yet.


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