On Pearl Boy

A fellow dancer regularly comes out with pearls on salsa. Let’s call him “Pearl Boy” in case he comes out with any more and we need to refer to him again.

For context, Pearl Boy has been dancing for approximately two and a half years. He’s completely hooked on LA style salsa and has never danced any other style to date, nor does he yet seem interested in doing so. He is currently going through a rather lengthy phase in which he goes out dancing as often as he can. He is especially satisfied if he succeeds in dancing more than six nights in a row. Whenever possible, Pearl Boy attends local classes and is routinely sweaty and out of breath by the time some of the more relaxed dancers walk into the club. Most importantly, Pearl Boy is proud of his salsa obsession.

When I last saw Pearl Boy at a congress, he was in the midst of a crazy salsa workshop and party binge. Unfortunately since he is a man of extremes, Pearl Boy was rather tired after this particular experience. Indeed, he loved the congress and wishes to attend many more. However, he does not wish to miss out on the festivities of future congresses on account of being tired. He has thus declared that he will never again be attending classes at congresses. It’s a shame that he’ll be missing out on the excellent tuition available at these events, but that’s how it is.

At the same congress, Pearl Boy shared with me his strategy for getting better dances. Never ask a girl to dance at the beginning of the song, says Pearl Boy. No, you see, it is far more intelligent to ask the girl to dance in the middle of the song. Why, I ask? Well, says Pearl Boy, if you ask a girl to dance mid-song, and she turns out to be terrible, then you only have to dance with her for half the dance. If however, she turns out to be a great dancer, then you can ask her for another one as soon as the first one ends, thus granting yourself a dance and a half with said fabulous dance partner!

That is definitely a strategy I hadn’t heard before. Normally dancers are happy to sit back and watch for a song, absorb their surroundings, appreciate the music and seek to better understand the geography of the dance floor. Not so for Pearl Boy. He loves to dance so much (and thinks he's so brilliant) that he can’t stand the idea of watching a whole song go by without being on the dance floor for at least half of it!

On the urge

A friend of mine has also started a salsa blog. She's based in Paris and has been dancing for longer than I have, so is likely to have some interesting thoughts to share. Check it out:

http://www.salsavida.se/?p=28

It's interesting, because in one of her recent posts (8th December 2010), she mentions that in the early days, nothing could stop her from going out and dancing, that she'd dance most nights of the week and that rain or snow, she would be out on a dance floor somewhere, dancing with absolutely everyone. She asked why the feeling has changed, why she has become more selective, why the cold is now an impediment to a good night's dancing and why she finds herself being more responsible in considering her next day at work rather than only the pending happiness of her feet.

I have been a witness to this change in myself as well. There was a time when I was at dinner with a guy but ditched him and any potential future plans (and relationship) with him because I needed to dance that night. Needed - there was really no other option. There were countless other friends who realised that on certain nights I was not available because there was only one thing that I wanted or was prepared to do. Priorities were reordered, non-dancers were mildly offended, but I could not be stopped. 

Nowadays, things are different. I rarely go dancing more than once a week and in doing so, only go to one place. I find excuses for the other nights - the all too real "I'm still at work" or "I have a conference call", the cold, the rain, the crowd, the floor, the music. I need a guarantee that it will all be perfect for it to be worth my while. Where I used to promise myself that I would never go home after work, make dinner and chill out in front of the TV - I thought I could escape this plight because there's always an open salsa venue somewhere - I now enjoy doing this. I feel like I've aged, like I no longer have the energy I once had and as I can no longer drive myself to such extremes of activity. 

To be clear, this new lethargy does not mean that I am any more available for non-dancers, I haven't changed the order of my priorities or relocated salsa to a lower position in the list. However, somehow, I've just slowed it all down a notch.

When I meet young recruits to the salsa world and they enthusiastically tell me that they dance six nights a week, I smile and silently think they are crazy. And I know that I am giving them the same disapproving look that non-dancers and dancers alike used to give me. Of course, people still give me the same look - to most people, I appear to be just as obsessed, but from inside, it feels different. Just like my friend, I miss that crazy insane joy that used to push me out of the house and onto the dance floor. The trepidation, the accelerating heartbeats, the excitement of knowing that I would be dancing soon. 

So what is it that makes us mature into this lazier breed of social dancer? And does the craziness really go away? I wrote a post ahead of the New York Salsa Congress when I felt I was going mildly insane. Back in August, I was gripped with salsa fever. Now, it seems to have died down once again and while I want to dance and am happy when I do, there is no craziness involved. Perhaps this is healthy? 

Or perhaps I'm simply focused on different things. My current focus is one night - Sundays at SOS ("Salsa on Sundays" in Russell Square). To my mind, this is the best night of the week, marked by its dancers, its DJs, its floor, its ambiance - it's truly the haven for dancers that it aims to be. My more balanced attitude for salsa on most days of the week is still matched with my physical need to go to SOS on Sundays. The mere thought of missing those golden three hours of dancing makes me miserable! 

In conclusion, I would maintain that, as least in my case, the craziness is still there. I think I have become better at managing it, at appearing normal, at showing to others that I am a balanced human being. Ultimately, I still get crazed, as evidence by the pre-New York episodes. I get upset when the best three hours of my week are taken from me. And I spend most of my daydream time thinking about possible congresses to go to. 

Clearly, the obsession is still alive and well.