I’m still smiling from pure, intense, almost overwhelming joy. It’s filling me up in such a wonderful, easy way.
Last night I went out dancing with one of the guys from the gay men’s chorus. He’s the cis man with whom I had danced Swing at the end of November — my first, wonderful experience of partner-dancing with another gay man.
When I was struggling with the chorus at the beginning, he was one of the people who were kind and welcoming with me — partly because of his character, and partly because he’s had a leadership role in the chorus for years. He’s at least fifteen years older than I, has survived a heart-attack, and is so full of life and fun that it’s refreshing to just be around him.
At the gay club last night many people probably thought he was my “daddy” but that’s absolutely not the case: he’s married and I met his husband before going out last night; and I’m ace-aro, I don’t relate to any of those categories or dynamics (“top”, “bottom”, “daddy”, etc.) and going out dancing is one of the environments/circumstances that makes my asexuality most clear to me. We were “just” two friends out dancing together.
But “just” doesn’t do it justice.
It was fun; it was liberating; it was pure, untainted, unselfconscious joy. And it was mutual and shared. He was having as much fun as I was — and of a similar type: fun dancing.
The fact that the fun and joy were mutual and shared was one of the most important and profoundly joyful aspects for me. Last night, he & I were there together, we were out dancing together. At the club, on the dance floor, we were partners. Not sexual partners, not romantic partners — thank goodness — I don’t want that. We were dance partners, we were “fun times” partners: that’s what I wanted, what I needed; that’s one of the types of partnerships that I do want. And last night I got it: we carpooled; we danced together, seamlessly going from partnered dancing for some songs to dancing together but separately when the songs couldn’t be turned into some form of Swing or Polka; we went up to the DJ together to request a couple of our favorite songs; we both took our shirts off and danced bare-chested for my favorite song; we took breaks together, and he always went up to the bar-tender to get a cup of water for each of us, taking care of me too. And when I eventually got home from my drive back, I found a text message from him, once again thanking me for a fun evening and saying “let’s do it again”!
I hope we do get to do it again. I need this type of joy, this type of partnership in my life along with my athletic/adventure partnerships (e.g. with my climbing and/or running buddies) and deep queerplatonic friendships.
Last night, I felt seen, I felt held, I felt cared for, all while having a lot of fun, while playing, and playing together, sharing the joy.
When I took off my shirt on the dance floor for the song “Pink Pony Club” and my dance partner did too, almost immediately after me, and we were the only two people dancing bare-chested, I felt his solidarity. He probably did it because it felt fun and liberating to himself as well, not just for me; but the shared moment meant a lot to me, as his smiling words did afterwards (he knows how much I have struggled with internalized transphobia): “So, you took your shirt off at the club”!
Yes, I took my shirt off and danced bare-chested at the club because it was fun and liberating. And because I felt safe. And I felt safe because he was there with me.
His presence helped me feel safe, and the shared mutuality of the fun enhanced the joy in wonderful ways that are still filling my cup to the brim today.
The Little Prince and the Fox 