One of the coolest time periods of my life was middle school. Where I grew up, middle school was 6th-8th grade. It was the coolest time period because you were young enough to appreciate the playground but old enough to wear lip gloss and talk about needing a bra and other adult-type stuff. But the coolest thing about middle school, in my eyes, was the school dances.
I LIVED for dances! I would spend weeks planning for dances: what to wear, what dances to do if certain songs came on, and, of course, who I wanted to "ask me" to the dance. Who you were going to the dance with was a pretty big deal. It could instantly elevate or plummet your popularity. I'll never forget the year Lewis Weinerman asked me to the Red & White Day dance. He was a great kid, who I thought was fun, so I said yes. Boy did I get teased for that one! I ended up dumping the poor guy in the middle of the dance. I'm sure that wasn't in his plans, but I wanted to dance with the popular boys (and get my friends to stop picking on me). I couldn't be tethered to Lewis.
Amazing how something so trivial as a dance could stir up so many feelings. But when you think about it, dancing is pretty intimate for some. And being someone's dance partner is a symbolic bond. One does not simply switch partners in the middle of the dance... Ah, but one does. Happens all the time. So much so there's even a pretty snazzy song about it. And every time I hear "Let the music play" I can't help but feel guilty about ditching Lewis (Lewis, if you ever read this, I am truly sorry for being a shallow jerk).
