Dancing is commonly viewed as an entertaining pastime by the average individual. It’s impressive to see someone do flips, kicks, and moves to the beat of a highly energized or extremely relaxed piece of music. This perspective of dancing is meant to inspire and delight onlookers. That’s the performance aspect of dancing. There’s also the social aspect of dancing. This is easily seen in partner dancing.
Partner dancing is focused primarily on connecting with another person through a shared experience. The experience is about making a physical dialogue with that other person. For anyone who does not dance regularly, the general assertion regarding this dialogue is that it has an undertone of romance to it. Any form of dancing where you are physically interacting with another person is usually considered to be a stepping stone toward romantic involvement.
It is certainly understandable that others would consider dancing to be a romantic approach. The act of maintaining physical, sometimes intimate, contact with a complete stranger for several minutes permits an undeniable proclivity towards this idea. I have to say that this approach was definitely on my mind when I was first starting. As the months went by, however, I discovered that a person’s purpose behind learning how to dance should not really be about getting with someone. If anything, it should be first and foremost about having fun.
I worked out that dancing is not typically seen through this viewpoint after I came across a video many months ago portraying the act of Swing dancing as a good hobby for couples to get into. This was done in lieu of depicting Swing dancing as a fun hobby to share with friends. The video reaffirmed to me what dancing is to a lot of people: a tool for dating. After having danced Swing, Bachata, and several forms of Ballroom in the past two or so years, I have learned that dancing can be used for this purpose, but it should not be the guiding light behind it.
When I dance with someone, I think about how I can get that someone, a complete stranger, to laugh at my silly dance antics. I want to see that complete stranger smile when we pull off a move together. I want to figure out how I can make a complete stranger feel good about themselves even when they might be messing up the footwork or they can’t hear the rhythm of the music. And I want to do this without being romantically interested in them. Without thinking about even potentially becoming romantically interested in the person I dance with.
I would like to encourage anyone who wants to get into dancing to take up this stance. Instead of using dancing as a means of getting a number and a possible date, try using it to become friends with another person. You are both obviously there to socialize, but why not make this a step toward becoming friends? Dancing is an immensely satisfying skill to learn, and it deserves to be treated as a gateway into friendships, first and foremost.
