I’ve never been comfortable dancing.
I guess that’s because I’ve never been able to really figure out how to properly dance. I can move my body in strange ways, sure, but perhaps not in a form that most people would qualify as “dancing.”
I had a friend once who took it upon herself to teach me. She had witnessed my refusal to dance on several occasions. When I finally confessed to her that it wasn’t because I didn’t want to, but rather because I didn’t know how, she decided that, as a fellow musician, she was both qualified and obligated to remedy the situation.
So together, we embarked on a journey. She took me to a club in DC called The Black Cat. It’s a pretty iconic location. After a quick verbal lesson, she pushed me out on the dance floor.
I showed her what I had “learned” so far. She cringed. Obviously, words would not be enough of a tonic. She placed her hands on my hips and tried to force them to move correctly.
I don’t know how long we were in that room… hours… days maybe. It’s kind of blurry. All I remember is her yelling at me, “YOU’RE A MUSICIAN! YOU UNDERSTAND RHYTHM! WHY?! WHY??”
Aerik Arkadian 
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