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.

Being the new kid, again

How old do you have to be not to get the "new kid" nerves in a new place? Last night I went out dancing for the first time since I was 3 weeks pregnant. I was still in Tucson then and most of the people I danced with had no idea. Given how hard it had been to conceive, I was a bit worried about the rougher leads trying do to some crazy spin-me-by-my-stomach move, so I just told everyone I had hurt my back and to lead gently. My last night of dancing in Tucson.

I finally had the energy, the babysitting, and the time to go dancing here in Zurich last night. In a small space near one of the playgrounds I really like.

M was off on a work dinner, so I suited up (gotta dress comfy but in a skirt that swings nice and a t shirt that won't bertray you when it gets sweaty), got out my dance sneakers (way more stable than the wedges, especially for a bad back and out of shape mama), and went on my way. Once I was within walking distance, I realized I was nervous. A room of new people, who to dance with, did I remember how to dance, and could I handle all the asking I'd have to do as the new person (tiring at best, disheartening at worst)? At nearly 40 years old, triumphantly with a successfully navigated new motherhood, country of residence, marriage, work life, depression....and I was still nervous.

My friend J posted today that she got a job in the middle of nowhere where she will be alone for the first many months, not even her cat with her. And she is nervous. But she is one of the funniest people I know. The person I would expect to have no problems in a new place. S there it is - we all still get nervous. Of isolation, of what people will think of us, how it will go, what we were thinking of undertaking this new thing. And invariably it is these adventures that enrich life in ways we hoped but didn't imagine.

So good luck, J, and congratulations!

My night of dancing turned out great. Luckily I lead as well as follow, so even though the place was 3:1 women to men, I got my self-promised 5 good dances, with 3 guys and 2 women. And the biggest mistake I made? After asking the best lead in the room to dance, and having a great dance, I walked away afterwards, having thanked him. Guess what, here the norm is to have two dances with each partner. I threw away a totally great second dance! I'll have to rememdy that next time.

Oh, and the second place winner of the Eurovision contest this year, Italy, has a pretty danceable song.