Having to ask for every dance

Two calls of "maaaama" at 3am just got me out of bed and out of one of those disturbing dreams where you can't find your way out of somewhere you don't want to be (this time, a hospital, a really big one with suffering people all around, but in a science fiction film, less human, more focusing on the fear of the diseases sort of way). And I had just been trying to drop off an ex at his bicycle before I headed back to my time machine. It just went all wrong and I never got back to my time machine.

Aaaanyway, my daughter called my name twice and then went silent. Must have found her pacifier. And now I'm up, in part trying to drain off the disturbing, lingering emotional state-of-mind from that dream.

As I was laying in the dark, trying to fall back asleep at the same time as not remember the dream, a striking similarity between two parts of my life struck me for the first time ever. My current employment, in which I am constantly needing to hustle, to cold call other researchers, people who work at the university, or anyone who I think might help me think through some of what I think through in academia without a research group to call my own (either above or below me), feels like being at a huge swing dance night, in a new city (yet again), in a scene I know no one in, and having to ask for every, single, dance.

No wonder I find work so disheartening sometimes. Because let me tell you how many car rides I've been a part of where a bunch of us women were coming home from a dance that just made us mostly feel like crap. Where no one asked us to dance, and since we weren't there to hook up (on that particular night or in general, say), and didn't know anyone, we had to ask for dances or just sit there. Yeah, I know, women and liberation, blah blah blah. Having to ask for every dance is painful, no matter who you are - guys, don't think women don't know what that feels like when someone who accepted a dance acts like it is a big favor they are doing you.

And it can just drain your enthusiasm for the activity, no matter how great the band or the venue was. So much hope and excitement goes down the drain. Self-esteem tried its best to do that, too.

How great it was to be driving home in a car full of people who experienced the same thing and to laugh, swear and, by the end of the hour, have some of the hope back and think "maybe I'll try dancing there one more time." And how lonely and disheartening it is not to have the same kind of support group right now as I ask for every dance academically these last few years.

I just went to a local swing night, in fact, and it was kind of the same - I knew no one, most people came in pairs or groups, all first contact was going on in German (my language skills do not include the subtleties of asking for a dance), there were many more followers than leads, and being 40 years old isn't exactly the quality one desires to have to get more dances. It was a pretty bleak night, emotionally. M had even insisted since I was going alone that I leave my wedding ring at home in hopes of playing the flirting angle. Sweet husband. Let's just say I might have been better served giving off "I'm married, just here for the dancing, don't worry, I won't follow you after this dance" signals at 40 than "I might be a cougar" signals.

And the band wasn't all that great, either.