There are some things I simply can't wrap my head around. One of them is the phenomena where men will willingly wear a condom for sexual intercourse, but not for fellatio. For some bizarre reason, people seem to be under the false assumption that sexually transmittable diseases are either NOT transmittable via oral sex, or else, the chances are so slim, that they don't merit the use of a condom or a dental dam (if you know what one is!).
Almost all the known sexually transmitted diseases are also transferable via oral sex. Not all show symptoms and some such as gonorreah are particularly difficult to treat. Some like chlamydia are very common. Women are more suseptible than men. However, men are particularly suseptable to nongonococcal urethritis (NGU). Systemic diseases such as syphillis are equally contageous ia intercourse or orally, regardless of how orginally contracted.
That being the case, if we are using condoms for safe sex practices, why wouldn't we use them for oral sex as well? If you would use a condom with a prostitute for oral sex, why wouldn't you extend that same practice, in the name of safety, to a playmate, lover, or friend?
Thank God they make flavored condoms!
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Foot Fetish Friend
A few weeks ago I went to lunch with a friend to a local restaurant. As usual, I was pretty casually dressed. Being a dance instructor, I am almost always in comfy dance clothes: leggings, warm-ups, sneakers, no make-up, hair up, and on the grunge side. I don't mind. I am not out for anything but lunch with a friend. Or so I think...
Our waiter was typical: I hadn't noticed anything unusual except that he happened to be a "he" and he was an attractive guy about my age. I guess I must have flirted a little, because I think that when he asked me if he could wrap up my leftovers, I recall saying something like, "Sure, and you can wrap it up with love," or something silly like that. Anyhow, I thought it was meaningless until I got home and saw that he had written his name and phone number on the cover of my take out box! Oh my!
I was flattered, but nervous. I am actually a bit shy and self conscious. So, I gathered up my guts and figured I HAD to contact him! It was cute and sweet, I thought, to be so courageous and take the chance, and he had liked me enough in spite of all my grunge, to give me his name and number, after all. The least I could do was call. But I was shy and nervous, so I texted the number. I got no response. So, maybe he doesn't text? I tried to call, but I didn't leave a message. It was a prerecorded message. Maybe the number was wrong? I threw the box away. It was in the hands of fate now. I tried. Maybe he would see my number and call me back. It didn't happen. I let it go.
A couple of weeks after that I ended up going back to the same restaurant with a different friend. The same waiter guy was there. He wasn't our waiter, but he was there. I told my friend about what had happened with the number. She said, "Well, now you have to give him YOUR number!" I had two scotches, found a pen and paper, and by the end of the night, I made sure he had it. I was nervous and giggly. I figured, what the heck, at least I have to try! Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?
The very next night I get a text message from him. OMG I am pleasantly surprised! For two hours we text. This is how the conversation went:
The first few questions are normal. Are you single? Where are you from? How old are you? Do you have any kids? Etc. Etc. Then the first red flag: He asks me, "Do you like foot massages?" and I am like, OMG! Is this a sexual reference ALREADY? Or is he just trying to feel me out? Or appeal to my feminine persuasions? I DON'T KNOW! So, I have to think of a crafty response. Something that is appropriate but neither sexually leading nor dismissive. I think of the perfect response. I say something like, "It depends on the who, the what, the where, the when, and the why". I am so sick of sexually inappropriate solicitations from men, but I want to give him the benefit of the doubt, just in case (this is where I always go wrong, BTW).
He responds with "Good answer". I think "FHEW"! to myself. We go back to asking each other appropriate normal preliminary questions. After a few normal questions, he does it again. He says to me, "I'm bored. Let's hook up now." I laugh "hahaha" and try to steer the conversation back to normal. It doesn't work. I ask him questions about his life. He tells me I am being too personal. He asks me, "Are you a prude, or do you like to fool around?" and I am thinking, like, what the fuck does THAT mean? And why haven't I even been offered a drink before being subjected to this level of conversation? Where is my fucking DATE?
Then I figure, fuck it, if he is all about the "hooking up" and asking inappropriate questions, then I will just be frank too. So I ask him, so what's up with the foot massage? Is that a fetish? He says yes. I ask him exactly what does he want to do. He says, " Suck on your toes, foot job (I can only imagine) and cum on your soles." I think "EWWWW" and I hope this is happening somewhere near a basin of warm sudsy water so that I can wash my feet and not have to walk around with sticky soles! UGH!!!
Needless to say, we haven't spoke again since. He probably thinks I am a prude, which is ironic because frankly, his goofy foot fetish is NOTHING compared to what I am into and sexually I know for a fact that I could scare the living shit out of him in 10 seconds flat with my freak flag if I wanted to. But, I don't want to. It is not worth it to me, because he is clearly an asshole and doesn't deserve to know anything interesting about me. He doesn't even want to know anything about me, and he never will. I know more about him than he will even know about me.
My question is this: Do I dare to go back to this restaurant? Will I get spit in my food for not letting him cum on my feet? Should I NOT order the fillet of sole?
It's kinda too bad really. If he had just been a little more charming, I would probably have entertained his fetish. After all, I do have the perfect feet. They are ugly, banged up dancers feet, but they are strong and flexible, too!
The thing is that it's not that I am opposed, or would always reject the idea, of having a purely sexual relationship, whether short term, long term, or one night. It is more along the lines of the fact that I really want and need to feel safe, that I like and will continue to like the person I am with, before and after, and that the person is not an asshole. I want some time and effort getting to know the person, and to know that I am viewed as a person, and not simply as some human blow up doll or fleshy substitution. If the man is charming and makes the effort, I will maybe (and I have in the past) be willing to at least to consider it. It is more the lack of charm and effort. Without it, I just feel plain flat and uninterested and totally turned off. I am not sure if I am making any sense...
Our waiter was typical: I hadn't noticed anything unusual except that he happened to be a "he" and he was an attractive guy about my age. I guess I must have flirted a little, because I think that when he asked me if he could wrap up my leftovers, I recall saying something like, "Sure, and you can wrap it up with love," or something silly like that. Anyhow, I thought it was meaningless until I got home and saw that he had written his name and phone number on the cover of my take out box! Oh my!
I was flattered, but nervous. I am actually a bit shy and self conscious. So, I gathered up my guts and figured I HAD to contact him! It was cute and sweet, I thought, to be so courageous and take the chance, and he had liked me enough in spite of all my grunge, to give me his name and number, after all. The least I could do was call. But I was shy and nervous, so I texted the number. I got no response. So, maybe he doesn't text? I tried to call, but I didn't leave a message. It was a prerecorded message. Maybe the number was wrong? I threw the box away. It was in the hands of fate now. I tried. Maybe he would see my number and call me back. It didn't happen. I let it go.
A couple of weeks after that I ended up going back to the same restaurant with a different friend. The same waiter guy was there. He wasn't our waiter, but he was there. I told my friend about what had happened with the number. She said, "Well, now you have to give him YOUR number!" I had two scotches, found a pen and paper, and by the end of the night, I made sure he had it. I was nervous and giggly. I figured, what the heck, at least I have to try! Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?
The very next night I get a text message from him. OMG I am pleasantly surprised! For two hours we text. This is how the conversation went:
The first few questions are normal. Are you single? Where are you from? How old are you? Do you have any kids? Etc. Etc. Then the first red flag: He asks me, "Do you like foot massages?" and I am like, OMG! Is this a sexual reference ALREADY? Or is he just trying to feel me out? Or appeal to my feminine persuasions? I DON'T KNOW! So, I have to think of a crafty response. Something that is appropriate but neither sexually leading nor dismissive. I think of the perfect response. I say something like, "It depends on the who, the what, the where, the when, and the why". I am so sick of sexually inappropriate solicitations from men, but I want to give him the benefit of the doubt, just in case (this is where I always go wrong, BTW).
He responds with "Good answer". I think "FHEW"! to myself. We go back to asking each other appropriate normal preliminary questions. After a few normal questions, he does it again. He says to me, "I'm bored. Let's hook up now." I laugh "hahaha" and try to steer the conversation back to normal. It doesn't work. I ask him questions about his life. He tells me I am being too personal. He asks me, "Are you a prude, or do you like to fool around?" and I am thinking, like, what the fuck does THAT mean? And why haven't I even been offered a drink before being subjected to this level of conversation? Where is my fucking DATE?
Then I figure, fuck it, if he is all about the "hooking up" and asking inappropriate questions, then I will just be frank too. So I ask him, so what's up with the foot massage? Is that a fetish? He says yes. I ask him exactly what does he want to do. He says, " Suck on your toes, foot job (I can only imagine) and cum on your soles." I think "EWWWW" and I hope this is happening somewhere near a basin of warm sudsy water so that I can wash my feet and not have to walk around with sticky soles! UGH!!!
Needless to say, we haven't spoke again since. He probably thinks I am a prude, which is ironic because frankly, his goofy foot fetish is NOTHING compared to what I am into and sexually I know for a fact that I could scare the living shit out of him in 10 seconds flat with my freak flag if I wanted to. But, I don't want to. It is not worth it to me, because he is clearly an asshole and doesn't deserve to know anything interesting about me. He doesn't even want to know anything about me, and he never will. I know more about him than he will even know about me.
My question is this: Do I dare to go back to this restaurant? Will I get spit in my food for not letting him cum on my feet? Should I NOT order the fillet of sole?
It's kinda too bad really. If he had just been a little more charming, I would probably have entertained his fetish. After all, I do have the perfect feet. They are ugly, banged up dancers feet, but they are strong and flexible, too!
The thing is that it's not that I am opposed, or would always reject the idea, of having a purely sexual relationship, whether short term, long term, or one night. It is more along the lines of the fact that I really want and need to feel safe, that I like and will continue to like the person I am with, before and after, and that the person is not an asshole. I want some time and effort getting to know the person, and to know that I am viewed as a person, and not simply as some human blow up doll or fleshy substitution. If the man is charming and makes the effort, I will maybe (and I have in the past) be willing to at least to consider it. It is more the lack of charm and effort. Without it, I just feel plain flat and uninterested and totally turned off. I am not sure if I am making any sense...
Letting Go Without The Claw Marks
The truth is that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and envy the sincerest proof of success. Humans are also philosophically myopic. That is, things seem to look better from a distance. No wonder then that intimacy, the act of closeness, makes us wary and afraid. Who wants to see all the imperfections, the flaws, the weaknesses and inconsistencies that plague and marr our human nature and form?
Some of the most difficult students have been the ones who simply do not know when to leave me as their teacher. There are so many ways to say goodbye. For example, they could say something like "Hey, it was great, but I am ready to move on. Thanks so much and see you around!", or they could just simply disappear. I actually am OK with them just disappearing. I am not stupid and I have many friends in the dance community. I know where students go when they leave me, and I am OK with that.
What is really upsetting is when they can't let go without leaving the claw marks. Invariably, there are always people who just don't know how to say goodbye gracefully. Perhaps they feel awkward saying goodbye at all, because they feel it might be interpreted on my behalf as a rejection and upset me, or as a flaw on their behalf, that they have grown bored or tired of me. The fact of the matter is that I expect them to leave me. It is their "job" as students to take what they want, and to go on to do more, other, and better, with other people and in other places. I am sad, but more so, I am pleased for them, and happy, and proud to have had any affiliation or affect on them as dancers.
Inevitably, those students are the few who hurt me the most because in their effort to leave and move on, seem to be inconsolably resigned to find a way to vilanize me as an excuse to get away. Somehow, they have to pick a fight or conjure an imagined slight to justify their bad behaviour, which in turn, is their desperate attempt to assign blame and misdirect anger. I am blessed in that out of the hundreds of students who have come and passed through my classes, only a very few, a mere handful, literally 5 or 6, have succumbed to such a pitiful means of escape.
One particular student was initially so enamoured of me, or shall I say, what and who she imagined me to be, that she actually moved her home to my town to live closer and make it easier to take classes with me. One day, she showed up to class with a black wig. She so fell in love with me, or her imagined version of me, that she imitated me to the point that when she performed, she danced just like me, and people would comment to me about the intensity of the similarity. She stayed with me far longer than she should have, to the point where I felt compelled to tell her that she really needed to study with others and become her own dancer. No matter how flattering it was to be so grossly imitated and to be such an intense object of her obsession, I intuitively and intelligently knew that it was not behoving to either of us for her to be thusly. After all, even a great copy, in the end, is really only a copy, and it is so much better to be your own imperfect original you, than to be a mere "perfect" copy of someone else.
I was very frank and firm, but tried also to be her friend, but it was fated to end badly and impossible to salvage. In the end, she simply ended up hating me. It was as though she wanted to be like me, but then, she wanted to BE me, and there wasn't any room for another me, so she had to try to destroy me, to get me out of her way, so that she could do what I did, and have what I had. Before, we were always together and people thought we were close. Now when people ask her about me, she tells them that she doesn't know me, as thought I no longer exist for her. This was a very extreme case, and I haven't again and hope not ever to experience it again. But, it is very typical for someone experiencing extreme obsession, much like in the movie, "Single White Female".
The beauty of the dance, the feminist spiritualism, and the women-centric bonding happens mostly when there is no room for competition. At first, it looks so great to be a belly dancer! Especially when one is new, and fresh, and not yet indoctrinated. How supportive and friendly and accepting and warm we all look at first, but from a distance, and with fresh eyes. That is, until the student builds strength and skill and confidence, and after experiencing the thrill and ego stroking effect of performing, and being told how talented and beautiful she is, and how much she wants to believe this, needs to believe this, insists on believing this! And then she wants more, starts to see that she can be more, have more, do more. And this is when the trouble begins. The student starts to see herself as better and is feeling that she is better and entitled to better, and to more. And the student begins to get into a competitive mode with other students, and then with other dancers, and with her instructors. It is hard to be friends with someone with whom you believe to be in competition with you. So, something has to go, and the need for the ego is greater than the need for the friendship. So, the friendship and good will is sacrificed in the name of the ego, and for that which feeds the ego.
I understand this phenomenon. I don't like it, but I understand it, and I accept it. It is hard to throw stones at the castle, when one lives in the castle.
Some of the most difficult students have been the ones who simply do not know when to leave me as their teacher. There are so many ways to say goodbye. For example, they could say something like "Hey, it was great, but I am ready to move on. Thanks so much and see you around!", or they could just simply disappear. I actually am OK with them just disappearing. I am not stupid and I have many friends in the dance community. I know where students go when they leave me, and I am OK with that.
What is really upsetting is when they can't let go without leaving the claw marks. Invariably, there are always people who just don't know how to say goodbye gracefully. Perhaps they feel awkward saying goodbye at all, because they feel it might be interpreted on my behalf as a rejection and upset me, or as a flaw on their behalf, that they have grown bored or tired of me. The fact of the matter is that I expect them to leave me. It is their "job" as students to take what they want, and to go on to do more, other, and better, with other people and in other places. I am sad, but more so, I am pleased for them, and happy, and proud to have had any affiliation or affect on them as dancers.
Inevitably, those students are the few who hurt me the most because in their effort to leave and move on, seem to be inconsolably resigned to find a way to vilanize me as an excuse to get away. Somehow, they have to pick a fight or conjure an imagined slight to justify their bad behaviour, which in turn, is their desperate attempt to assign blame and misdirect anger. I am blessed in that out of the hundreds of students who have come and passed through my classes, only a very few, a mere handful, literally 5 or 6, have succumbed to such a pitiful means of escape.
One particular student was initially so enamoured of me, or shall I say, what and who she imagined me to be, that she actually moved her home to my town to live closer and make it easier to take classes with me. One day, she showed up to class with a black wig. She so fell in love with me, or her imagined version of me, that she imitated me to the point that when she performed, she danced just like me, and people would comment to me about the intensity of the similarity. She stayed with me far longer than she should have, to the point where I felt compelled to tell her that she really needed to study with others and become her own dancer. No matter how flattering it was to be so grossly imitated and to be such an intense object of her obsession, I intuitively and intelligently knew that it was not behoving to either of us for her to be thusly. After all, even a great copy, in the end, is really only a copy, and it is so much better to be your own imperfect original you, than to be a mere "perfect" copy of someone else.
I was very frank and firm, but tried also to be her friend, but it was fated to end badly and impossible to salvage. In the end, she simply ended up hating me. It was as though she wanted to be like me, but then, she wanted to BE me, and there wasn't any room for another me, so she had to try to destroy me, to get me out of her way, so that she could do what I did, and have what I had. Before, we were always together and people thought we were close. Now when people ask her about me, she tells them that she doesn't know me, as thought I no longer exist for her. This was a very extreme case, and I haven't again and hope not ever to experience it again. But, it is very typical for someone experiencing extreme obsession, much like in the movie, "Single White Female".
The beauty of the dance, the feminist spiritualism, and the women-centric bonding happens mostly when there is no room for competition. At first, it looks so great to be a belly dancer! Especially when one is new, and fresh, and not yet indoctrinated. How supportive and friendly and accepting and warm we all look at first, but from a distance, and with fresh eyes. That is, until the student builds strength and skill and confidence, and after experiencing the thrill and ego stroking effect of performing, and being told how talented and beautiful she is, and how much she wants to believe this, needs to believe this, insists on believing this! And then she wants more, starts to see that she can be more, have more, do more. And this is when the trouble begins. The student starts to see herself as better and is feeling that she is better and entitled to better, and to more. And the student begins to get into a competitive mode with other students, and then with other dancers, and with her instructors. It is hard to be friends with someone with whom you believe to be in competition with you. So, something has to go, and the need for the ego is greater than the need for the friendship. So, the friendship and good will is sacrificed in the name of the ego, and for that which feeds the ego.
I understand this phenomenon. I don't like it, but I understand it, and I accept it. It is hard to throw stones at the castle, when one lives in the castle.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Condoms Are Not Optional
In this day and age, I doubt anyone would really prefer to take the risk of pregnancy or disease for the sheer titillation of a one night stand. And especially at this point of the game in my life: Condoms are not an option.
I finally broke down and had what I will refer to as a "one night stand". After all, it has been a very long time since my last sexual liaison and while I do prefer to be with some one whom I at least know enough to like and trust, I am capable and will rarely on occasion participate in a purely sexual experience with a virtual stranger. Like most all my experiences, however, this one was noteworthy.
Of all places, I was at the dentist having a filling. Not exactly at my sexiest, I was both very unmade and very unkempt at the time and rather not exactly expecting to meet anyone other than the receptionist. But like all good stories, while totally not expecting it, I did happen to get the phone number of a man shoved into my hand as I was paying my bill. I thought it was very courageous and cute, so, of course, I had to respond. The gentleman had seemed young and attractive enough and well what the heck, it is not like I have a long list of contenders right now any how. So I texted and we made plans to meet the following night.
The gentleman scored points for taking the initiative and making the effort, and while I did not want to bring a stranger to my home, he would have picked me up at my house, which is totally gentlemanly too. He was great in opening up the door, and bought me a couple of drinks and was totally attentive in spite of the fact that we were in a night club surrounded by women who were half my age and wearing half as much and twice as pretty. So lots of points!!! Yay!
I agreed to go to his place. That the gentleman actually 1. had a car, 2. bought me drinks. and 3. had a place to take me where we could be alone and have sex was wildly accomplished to me! I'd had a year of so of meeting men who had none of those (and how disappointing is that!)
I had to tell him that there would be no sex without a condom. He lied and told me he did not have any but when I went to get mine out of my bag, he suddenly "found" one. Grrrr, but OK.
It was fine but it was not exactly mind blowing sex and I wasn't that drunk enough to let it slide when he let his penis slide out of the condom and tried to enter me without. OMG!!! What the fuck??? I stopped everything faster than a train bearing down on a child playing on the tracts! You cannot enter me without a condom!!!
The gentleman obviously did not prefer to wear the little raincoat on his prized pecker but I don't care! He told me that he had just gotten a physical and was "clean", and when that didn't convince me, he assured me that if I got pregnant, he would take care of it. OMG OMG OMG!!!!
I don't think I could have gotten out of that house faster if it was on fire. What the fuck was he thinking??? WAS he thinking??? What a turn OFF. If I can't even trust you to wear a rubber, what the fuck can I trust you with? NOTHING and certainly not the safety and well being of me! And trust me, there is nothing sexy about a man I don't trust.
*sigh*
I finally broke down and had what I will refer to as a "one night stand". After all, it has been a very long time since my last sexual liaison and while I do prefer to be with some one whom I at least know enough to like and trust, I am capable and will rarely on occasion participate in a purely sexual experience with a virtual stranger. Like most all my experiences, however, this one was noteworthy.
Of all places, I was at the dentist having a filling. Not exactly at my sexiest, I was both very unmade and very unkempt at the time and rather not exactly expecting to meet anyone other than the receptionist. But like all good stories, while totally not expecting it, I did happen to get the phone number of a man shoved into my hand as I was paying my bill. I thought it was very courageous and cute, so, of course, I had to respond. The gentleman had seemed young and attractive enough and well what the heck, it is not like I have a long list of contenders right now any how. So I texted and we made plans to meet the following night.
The gentleman scored points for taking the initiative and making the effort, and while I did not want to bring a stranger to my home, he would have picked me up at my house, which is totally gentlemanly too. He was great in opening up the door, and bought me a couple of drinks and was totally attentive in spite of the fact that we were in a night club surrounded by women who were half my age and wearing half as much and twice as pretty. So lots of points!!! Yay!
I agreed to go to his place. That the gentleman actually 1. had a car, 2. bought me drinks. and 3. had a place to take me where we could be alone and have sex was wildly accomplished to me! I'd had a year of so of meeting men who had none of those (and how disappointing is that!)
I had to tell him that there would be no sex without a condom. He lied and told me he did not have any but when I went to get mine out of my bag, he suddenly "found" one. Grrrr, but OK.
It was fine but it was not exactly mind blowing sex and I wasn't that drunk enough to let it slide when he let his penis slide out of the condom and tried to enter me without. OMG!!! What the fuck??? I stopped everything faster than a train bearing down on a child playing on the tracts! You cannot enter me without a condom!!!
The gentleman obviously did not prefer to wear the little raincoat on his prized pecker but I don't care! He told me that he had just gotten a physical and was "clean", and when that didn't convince me, he assured me that if I got pregnant, he would take care of it. OMG OMG OMG!!!!
I don't think I could have gotten out of that house faster if it was on fire. What the fuck was he thinking??? WAS he thinking??? What a turn OFF. If I can't even trust you to wear a rubber, what the fuck can I trust you with? NOTHING and certainly not the safety and well being of me! And trust me, there is nothing sexy about a man I don't trust.
*sigh*
Why Belly Dance?
Gender Role Conflict
Over the years I have come to some logical ideas about why women love to belly dance. These ideas are not researched nor are they scientific at all, but rather, just my own thoughts about why I think women are drawn to and fall in love with belly dancing.
There is a part of me that feels that, while a very worthwhile and definitely needed pursuit, over the decades in and during our general quest for social equality we have had to forgo our past definitions of femininity (and masculinity, for that matter), and that we don't necessarily feel that we have adequate or clear modern definitions of femininity, that would help us to define what makes us different in a social psychological sense as women from men in our current society. Our ways of doing things and social norms have changed, but not yet taken a new complete, concrete or identifiably clear form.
The art and practice of the belly dance is indeed inherently and unmistakably feminine. From our costuming and make up, to the dance as a physical expression of female beauty and prowess, to our women populated classes and haflis, we are surrounded, behave, and express ourselves in ways that clearly denote female characteristics and beauty.
In a world where we are expected to demand social equality and to therefore focus on characteristics that make us more competitive with, acceptable to, and successful in regards to living and working in a more egalitarian world with men, a blatantly female oriented and feminine world such as the sub culture of those of us involved in belly dance can feel like a very special, welcoming, and safe place for us to finally bask in the glory of total female oriented expression without having to declare ourselves as belonging in any specific camp other than the fact that we are women.
Growing Up As An Ugly Ducking
Personally, my childhood was not pretty in many ways. I certainly did not feel very pretty nor did I feel very feminine. I feel like I had a unique situation but I know that I probably did not. When I was two years old, my family immigrated from Italy and we ended up living in a very white, Irish neighborhood. There were constant similar remarks and questions from others that indicated to me that our presence was either very odd, or very wrong. With my black hair, olive skin, and foreign accent, I was the proverbial coffee bean in a glass of milk. My looks, my speech, and my family on the surface did not resemble those around me. Even my dolls invariably had blond hair, blue eyes, and WASP names. I was mercilessly teased by other children (children can be very cruel) and my father was sent home from work on more than one occasion because of a fight he would get into because of other workers who would also mercilessly bully him to the point where he would finally lose it.
It is of no surprise to me that I delighted in the fact that as a belly dancer, I found myself in a venue in which my looks and persona worked for me in regards to making it appear that I belonged. Not only that, but I found myself being told that not only did I look as though I belonged, i.e. I look like a belly dancer, and I look like a person of Middle Eastern descent, but also that I was beautiful, special, and unique, and that this uniqueness in itself, that I did something as unique as belly dance, was in and of itself considered beautiful and special.
Connecting With Women
As an adult, I find it especially difficult to connect with other women. Looking for ways to identify with and a reason to connect with other women using the commonality of an interest in belly dance became very helpful and I am very friendly with and even friends with women with whom I have met via the belly dance.
Self Expression And Creativity
Like many art forms such as writing, dancing, the performing arts, and all kinds of other art forms, the belly dance is a format for self expression and artistic creativity in a culture that does not necessarily venerate or nurture self expression, creativity, or the arts in general. Belly dancers have created their own sub-culture in which we support ourselves and each other by providing resources such as performance opportunities and instruction.
Furthermore, as someone who is undoubtedly and intrinsically a dark soul, leaning towards a despondent and more depressive aspect, a realist with a pragmatic underpinning, and an introverted, self absorbed loner with an ubiquitously cerebral mentality, I truly appreciate and bask in the unique opportunity to be able to express a more joyful, life affirming, impulsive and creative side of myself.
Over the years I have come to some logical ideas about why women love to belly dance. These ideas are not researched nor are they scientific at all, but rather, just my own thoughts about why I think women are drawn to and fall in love with belly dancing.
There is a part of me that feels that, while a very worthwhile and definitely needed pursuit, over the decades in and during our general quest for social equality we have had to forgo our past definitions of femininity (and masculinity, for that matter), and that we don't necessarily feel that we have adequate or clear modern definitions of femininity, that would help us to define what makes us different in a social psychological sense as women from men in our current society. Our ways of doing things and social norms have changed, but not yet taken a new complete, concrete or identifiably clear form.
The art and practice of the belly dance is indeed inherently and unmistakably feminine. From our costuming and make up, to the dance as a physical expression of female beauty and prowess, to our women populated classes and haflis, we are surrounded, behave, and express ourselves in ways that clearly denote female characteristics and beauty.
In a world where we are expected to demand social equality and to therefore focus on characteristics that make us more competitive with, acceptable to, and successful in regards to living and working in a more egalitarian world with men, a blatantly female oriented and feminine world such as the sub culture of those of us involved in belly dance can feel like a very special, welcoming, and safe place for us to finally bask in the glory of total female oriented expression without having to declare ourselves as belonging in any specific camp other than the fact that we are women.
Growing Up As An Ugly Ducking
Personally, my childhood was not pretty in many ways. I certainly did not feel very pretty nor did I feel very feminine. I feel like I had a unique situation but I know that I probably did not. When I was two years old, my family immigrated from Italy and we ended up living in a very white, Irish neighborhood. There were constant similar remarks and questions from others that indicated to me that our presence was either very odd, or very wrong. With my black hair, olive skin, and foreign accent, I was the proverbial coffee bean in a glass of milk. My looks, my speech, and my family on the surface did not resemble those around me. Even my dolls invariably had blond hair, blue eyes, and WASP names. I was mercilessly teased by other children (children can be very cruel) and my father was sent home from work on more than one occasion because of a fight he would get into because of other workers who would also mercilessly bully him to the point where he would finally lose it.
It is of no surprise to me that I delighted in the fact that as a belly dancer, I found myself in a venue in which my looks and persona worked for me in regards to making it appear that I belonged. Not only that, but I found myself being told that not only did I look as though I belonged, i.e. I look like a belly dancer, and I look like a person of Middle Eastern descent, but also that I was beautiful, special, and unique, and that this uniqueness in itself, that I did something as unique as belly dance, was in and of itself considered beautiful and special.
Connecting With Women
As an adult, I find it especially difficult to connect with other women. Looking for ways to identify with and a reason to connect with other women using the commonality of an interest in belly dance became very helpful and I am very friendly with and even friends with women with whom I have met via the belly dance.
Self Expression And Creativity
Like many art forms such as writing, dancing, the performing arts, and all kinds of other art forms, the belly dance is a format for self expression and artistic creativity in a culture that does not necessarily venerate or nurture self expression, creativity, or the arts in general. Belly dancers have created their own sub-culture in which we support ourselves and each other by providing resources such as performance opportunities and instruction.
Furthermore, as someone who is undoubtedly and intrinsically a dark soul, leaning towards a despondent and more depressive aspect, a realist with a pragmatic underpinning, and an introverted, self absorbed loner with an ubiquitously cerebral mentality, I truly appreciate and bask in the unique opportunity to be able to express a more joyful, life affirming, impulsive and creative side of myself.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Who I am Versus Who You Want Me To Be
One of the things that has been on my mind has to do with the idea that I feel that I have often times been befriended, wanted, or loved for who someone else has imagined me to be, rather than who I really am. I am convinced that in many of my relationships, both romantic and friendship, and especially in ones that have either not worked out or not lasted, or even ended badly, has to do with the idea that somehow, I did not measure up to their idea of me. I can't help but feel that somehow I am responsible, at least in part, in managing to allow this phenomenon to occur.
Perhaps there is a way in which I, too, am liking or falling in love with some unrealistic ideal. For example, perhaps I love the idea of being liked or loved by someone who would dare to put me in a higher or different light than I reside in. Perhaps I am persuaded by this higher vision of me, and wanting to also see myself in this different light, compelled to allow myself to get swept up into this fantasy version of who I appear to be to this other person for the sheer titillation of it all.
All I know is that, falling off of this false pedestal leaves me feeling bruised and disappointed. I don't like it and I do not like the aftermath; The sense of loss of a love or a friend, the incurring need to rebuild my self, my ego, and sometimes, my life. It is all just so very painful and messy.
I guess that what I need to do is to figure out exactly who I am, what I want, and make sure that I am presenting myself to others as sincerely and authentically as possible. However, sometimes I am convinced that that is exactly what I am doing, and yet, I feel I am horribly misunderstood and mistaken.
Besides being true to myself and in my intentions to others I realize that I sometimes find the line between who is responsible for what to be a bit blurry. I tend to take a lot of responsibility, and perhaps at times, more than my fair share, of why someone would say or do something that causes an unfavorable emotional response in me. A case in point is that, in spite of how articulately careful I have been in representing myself to be a single woman in search of men to date in pursuant to a monogamous relationship, I still tend to get an awful lot of penis pictures and unsolicited offers for spontaneous sex. My first reaction is, "What is it about me that makes this man feel that I am interested in seeing his penis at about the same time or before we even say "hello"? or "What is it about me that is making this man feel that I might be interested in having sex with him, when I don't know a thing about him?"
It could very well be that this man is obsessed with his penis and thinks so highly of it, that he just wants to share his penis pics with the world at large, for all to share in the glory of his unadulterated manhood. Or, it could be that all this man wants is the instant gratification of getting off, and it is the "getting off" part that is his primary motivation, and that he really doesn't care who with.
I know that this is true; That people are motivated by their own wants, needs and desires, first and foremost, and rarely if ever are considering what the other person may be thinking or feeling. I don't say this to sound bitter or jaded, but rather am simply admitting to the fact that we are all as human beings basically wired to be ego-centric. For example, is it any less self-centered for me to be automatically thinking that I am somehow responsible for the behavior of others, before acknowledging that perhaps this person is simply acting out of their own desires to get their own wants met?
Still, I am curious and confused about the idea that people often times project their image of who I am onto me, not seeing and even ignoring who I really am, until the real me, butting into, interfering, and eventually tragically destroys their self constructed image of who I really am.
Perhaps there is a way in which I, too, am liking or falling in love with some unrealistic ideal. For example, perhaps I love the idea of being liked or loved by someone who would dare to put me in a higher or different light than I reside in. Perhaps I am persuaded by this higher vision of me, and wanting to also see myself in this different light, compelled to allow myself to get swept up into this fantasy version of who I appear to be to this other person for the sheer titillation of it all.
All I know is that, falling off of this false pedestal leaves me feeling bruised and disappointed. I don't like it and I do not like the aftermath; The sense of loss of a love or a friend, the incurring need to rebuild my self, my ego, and sometimes, my life. It is all just so very painful and messy.
I guess that what I need to do is to figure out exactly who I am, what I want, and make sure that I am presenting myself to others as sincerely and authentically as possible. However, sometimes I am convinced that that is exactly what I am doing, and yet, I feel I am horribly misunderstood and mistaken.
Besides being true to myself and in my intentions to others I realize that I sometimes find the line between who is responsible for what to be a bit blurry. I tend to take a lot of responsibility, and perhaps at times, more than my fair share, of why someone would say or do something that causes an unfavorable emotional response in me. A case in point is that, in spite of how articulately careful I have been in representing myself to be a single woman in search of men to date in pursuant to a monogamous relationship, I still tend to get an awful lot of penis pictures and unsolicited offers for spontaneous sex. My first reaction is, "What is it about me that makes this man feel that I am interested in seeing his penis at about the same time or before we even say "hello"? or "What is it about me that is making this man feel that I might be interested in having sex with him, when I don't know a thing about him?"
It could very well be that this man is obsessed with his penis and thinks so highly of it, that he just wants to share his penis pics with the world at large, for all to share in the glory of his unadulterated manhood. Or, it could be that all this man wants is the instant gratification of getting off, and it is the "getting off" part that is his primary motivation, and that he really doesn't care who with.
I know that this is true; That people are motivated by their own wants, needs and desires, first and foremost, and rarely if ever are considering what the other person may be thinking or feeling. I don't say this to sound bitter or jaded, but rather am simply admitting to the fact that we are all as human beings basically wired to be ego-centric. For example, is it any less self-centered for me to be automatically thinking that I am somehow responsible for the behavior of others, before acknowledging that perhaps this person is simply acting out of their own desires to get their own wants met?
Still, I am curious and confused about the idea that people often times project their image of who I am onto me, not seeing and even ignoring who I really am, until the real me, butting into, interfering, and eventually tragically destroys their self constructed image of who I really am.
Monday, April 2, 2012
Insomnia Update
I have gotten maybe eight hours of sleep over the past five nights. This is crazy, and I feel groggy and flu like. Tonight I will attempt to induce a drug infused coma. If you don't hear from me again, it is likely due to an overdose. Please call the paramedics and ask that they send men wearing wife beaters. I made this same request for my recent move when hiring a moving company, but they thought I was joking. I am not joking. I like men in wife beaters and if I have to be made to vomit (or die) then I at least want something comfortable to lean on and sexy to look at.
Performing For People Who Don't Want Me To Perform For Them
Enough said.
This past weekend I did a belly dance for a gentleman's 80th birthday. The woman who hired me, his daughter, seemed confident that this would be a great surprise for him. It is almost always the woman who hires the dancer: the wife, the girlfriend, the mother (yeah, it creeps me out a little when a mother hires me to dance for her son, but who am I to judge), or the daughter.
The hiring woman did call me back a couple of days before the event, just to inquire about details. It seems some of the people involved at this small gathering of family and friends had concerns about what exactly I do, and how I do it (she asked me about "audience participation", did I touch anyone or try to force anyone to do anything?). I reinforced the idea that I am ALWAYS family friendly and appropriate (as any "real" belly dance ought to be) and explained what I do. This should have been my heads-up. But, I guess I was hoping it would all be OK.
I was so wrong.
My performance at that event lasted exactly 6 minutes. It was certainly not the shortest performance I have ever done, but less than half of what I would usually do, at such an event. I would have completed my routine, would have preferred to complete my routine, but it was obvious that the stiff shirts standing around me had gotten to just about all they could take of me after the first three minutes. Besides the "OK, we are done with you now, this IS the end of your show now, right?" hand clapping, it was the glazed look of horror in their eyes (it looked as if they were expecting me to, at any minute, rip my panties off and masturbate in front of them) that stopped me.
It was almost as bad as the gig I had nine months ago, where the wife of the birthday boy, upon seeing me in full belly dance regalia, jumped up sobbing "Oh no! No! I don't want this! I am NOT HAPPY!" before running into the kitchen and bursting into tears for the rest of my performance.
Does anyone have any idea how difficult it is to perform for people who clearly do not want me to perform for them?
My question is this; How can you, when considering hiring me, not know your family and friends enough to know whether or not they can tolerate a belly dance? What were you thinking?
This past weekend I did a belly dance for a gentleman's 80th birthday. The woman who hired me, his daughter, seemed confident that this would be a great surprise for him. It is almost always the woman who hires the dancer: the wife, the girlfriend, the mother (yeah, it creeps me out a little when a mother hires me to dance for her son, but who am I to judge), or the daughter.
The hiring woman did call me back a couple of days before the event, just to inquire about details. It seems some of the people involved at this small gathering of family and friends had concerns about what exactly I do, and how I do it (she asked me about "audience participation", did I touch anyone or try to force anyone to do anything?). I reinforced the idea that I am ALWAYS family friendly and appropriate (as any "real" belly dance ought to be) and explained what I do. This should have been my heads-up. But, I guess I was hoping it would all be OK.
I was so wrong.
My performance at that event lasted exactly 6 minutes. It was certainly not the shortest performance I have ever done, but less than half of what I would usually do, at such an event. I would have completed my routine, would have preferred to complete my routine, but it was obvious that the stiff shirts standing around me had gotten to just about all they could take of me after the first three minutes. Besides the "OK, we are done with you now, this IS the end of your show now, right?" hand clapping, it was the glazed look of horror in their eyes (it looked as if they were expecting me to, at any minute, rip my panties off and masturbate in front of them) that stopped me.
It was almost as bad as the gig I had nine months ago, where the wife of the birthday boy, upon seeing me in full belly dance regalia, jumped up sobbing "Oh no! No! I don't want this! I am NOT HAPPY!" before running into the kitchen and bursting into tears for the rest of my performance.
Does anyone have any idea how difficult it is to perform for people who clearly do not want me to perform for them?
My question is this; How can you, when considering hiring me, not know your family and friends enough to know whether or not they can tolerate a belly dance? What were you thinking?
"How Much To Let Me...
...lay my head on your tummy?" was the question I was asked today by a "gentleman" calling to inquire about hiring me as a belly dancer.
*sigh*
I knew right away when he ended his message with "Ps: your delicious looking belly is what led me to call you."
But, I have to give him the benefit of the doubt and return his call, even though in my gut and from experience, I know this is more than likely some psycho fuck nut looking to get off.
I was right...(sometimes I hate being right!)
This "gentleman caller" did briefly mention an event he wanted to hire me for, at an unset determined location and unset determined time (HA). Then went on to the real question; How much would it cost for me to also give him a private dance, where he could fulfill his fetish for my tummy?
Why I am always stunned at these moments, I will never know. It seems always it is after the fact that I come up with the great come-back lines. But I am content with my response!
My response: "Well, I have never had such a request, and it being so unusual, I will require some time to consider it. But, as long as the activity is legal, safe, sane and conscentual, I will be willing to consider it. However, I reserve the right to change my mind and end said performance at any time. Why don't you call me back when you have thought this over."
That way, if this is a legitimate call, I have saved face, and if it is a cop, looking to see if I am a pro, or more likely a psycho fuck nut looking to get his freak on, I have saved my ass.
*sigh*
I knew right away when he ended his message with "Ps: your delicious looking belly is what led me to call you."
But, I have to give him the benefit of the doubt and return his call, even though in my gut and from experience, I know this is more than likely some psycho fuck nut looking to get off.
I was right...(sometimes I hate being right!)
This "gentleman caller" did briefly mention an event he wanted to hire me for, at an unset determined location and unset determined time (HA). Then went on to the real question; How much would it cost for me to also give him a private dance, where he could fulfill his fetish for my tummy?
Why I am always stunned at these moments, I will never know. It seems always it is after the fact that I come up with the great come-back lines. But I am content with my response!
My response: "Well, I have never had such a request, and it being so unusual, I will require some time to consider it. But, as long as the activity is legal, safe, sane and conscentual, I will be willing to consider it. However, I reserve the right to change my mind and end said performance at any time. Why don't you call me back when you have thought this over."
That way, if this is a legitimate call, I have saved face, and if it is a cop, looking to see if I am a pro, or more likely a psycho fuck nut looking to get his freak on, I have saved my ass.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
The Irony of Being A Person of Principle
Today I was at a belly dance hafli, where there were performances by some of my students from the past, as well as dancers with whom I consider myself friendly with, and my peers. In fact, a handful there had also at one time been members of my dance troupe as well. One of these dancers (I will call her "Air") who had been a student and troupe member, and who has gone on to teach and perform publicly came and spoke with me a short while. She has been going to a club that features belly dancers and live music, probably to hang out as well as to dance. I know a few of my other past students have been going there as well.
Air began by mentioning that a couple of musicians with whom I used to work with had asked about me, as well as some other dancers. Since they hadn't seen me in a while, they were wondering where I'd been and how I was doing. While I certainly didn't keep it a secret that I "retired" from the night club and restaurant scene a few years ago, I also didn't exactly take out an ad in the paper to announce it either, so I suppose not everyone knows or understands the reason why I haven't been seen around or performing in these places. But I think that they should have a sense. Especially someone like Air, who had been an active student and troupe member with me while I was still active in the night club sceen, and saw and heard firsthand what my experiences were like. Or maybe her memory is just "different" than mine?
Air spoke of this one particular restaurant. I will call it "The Blue Hat" restaurant, where they have been having live music and dancers. The irony of this conversation is that of course, here is Air beaming and smiling about how wonderful it is to go to The Blue Hat, and dance with the live band, when Air had been one of the dancers who was with me when some difficult circumstances occurred. Allow me to explain.
First, I have had a few students who I will refer to as "Students Who Have Gone Bad" and they each deserve their own blogs, which are forthcoming. "Students Who Have Gone Bad" are basically dancers who came to me and became my student, tried to pretend to be my friend, and sometimes were members of my troupe, but who ended up leaving "badly" (i.e. they had to leave the claw marks before letting go of the student-teacher relationship by behaving poorly and causing drama) or behaving otherwise "badly" (i.e. they did something inappropriately mean or wrong, like poaching on my students or gigs, or undercutting and stealing students, classes or gigs, and villainizing me in the end in some ludicrus manner in order to justify their own bad behaviour and reason for breaking off from me).
The Blue Hat was a restaurant that I had been booking and dancing at, and which was poached from me by a former student and "friend" (to be blogged about soon as well) whom I will call "Itch". But, at the time, trying to be a better person and accepting that students sometimes become ambitious and competitive, and that business is business, I decided to try a gig there with my troupe, in spite of the fact that 1. I knew the management and owner wanted only commercially attractive dancers (i.e. white, young, skinny, seemingly available, and pretty girls) and 2. I'd been burned there by the ex-student gone bad who stole my gig there. I wanted to put my differences behind me in order to be able to offer the performance opportunity to my own dancers. My rationale being: Why should they miss out on a good opportunity in the present, because of a bad experience in my past?
My troupe consisted at the time of not-necessarily what is considered commercially attractive. That is, I had women of different ages, weight, sizes, looks, and skin color. But Itch, the ex-student gone bad who had stolen the gig from me and who was obviously now the booking dancer at The Blue Hat assured me that management knew and understood this and that she was definitely sure that we would be acceptable as entertainment that evening.
WRONG.
We rehearsed for our group troupe performances and solos, got all dolled up, brought our family and friends with us, and prepared for our big night there. So there we were, all standing there, dressed and ready to go on, our friends and family sitting at tables and eating and drinking. Everyone eager and happy and excited to see our show, and us, excited and happy to perform it.
While we were arriving and preparing, apparently, management and owner decided that they did not like the look of our troupe members and that they definitely DID NOT want us to perform. Rather than telling me directly, as the Artistic Director of the troupe, the management and owner told a waiter, to tell the band, to tell me (fhew! and how mature is that?), that we in no uncertain terms were NOT to go on.
I cannot describe adequately in words how incredibly horrified and heartbroke and foolish I felt. There we were literally all in costume and standing in the hall waiting for our cue to begin, and all of our friends and family in the restaurant already at tables eating and drinking and waiting to see their loved ones go on. And I had to tell my dancers that we could not perform after all!!!
It was a nightmare for me. And of course, I do not have the heart to even step foot in that place now, after what I had to go through. Itch of course was not there and so was of no help at the moment. Itch had assured me it was OK. Did Itch have no clue what management wanted? Was she being lied to or misled herself? Was this some kind of a set up or sick joke?
So, pardon me if I see the irony in this story; That Air thinks so highly of this place and has no problem going there now, when at the time, she was one of us, and she was there with us, when this happened. But, I guess that is how eager dancers are to experience the satisfaction of performing in public...and I understand that enthusiasm because I too have felt that way as a dancer and new performer: so eager and grateful and happy just to have those few moments of bliss, dancing in public with a live band!
I think it is my sense of principle that makes me unwilling and uninterested to perform in or patronize this place. They put me in the most terrible position possible: insulting and demeaning myself, my dancers, and my art. I can't help but find it ironic that the same dancers, such as Air, who they rejected and inconvenienced in such a shallow and shady way, can justify going there.
Air began by mentioning that a couple of musicians with whom I used to work with had asked about me, as well as some other dancers. Since they hadn't seen me in a while, they were wondering where I'd been and how I was doing. While I certainly didn't keep it a secret that I "retired" from the night club and restaurant scene a few years ago, I also didn't exactly take out an ad in the paper to announce it either, so I suppose not everyone knows or understands the reason why I haven't been seen around or performing in these places. But I think that they should have a sense. Especially someone like Air, who had been an active student and troupe member with me while I was still active in the night club sceen, and saw and heard firsthand what my experiences were like. Or maybe her memory is just "different" than mine?
Air spoke of this one particular restaurant. I will call it "The Blue Hat" restaurant, where they have been having live music and dancers. The irony of this conversation is that of course, here is Air beaming and smiling about how wonderful it is to go to The Blue Hat, and dance with the live band, when Air had been one of the dancers who was with me when some difficult circumstances occurred. Allow me to explain.
First, I have had a few students who I will refer to as "Students Who Have Gone Bad" and they each deserve their own blogs, which are forthcoming. "Students Who Have Gone Bad" are basically dancers who came to me and became my student, tried to pretend to be my friend, and sometimes were members of my troupe, but who ended up leaving "badly" (i.e. they had to leave the claw marks before letting go of the student-teacher relationship by behaving poorly and causing drama) or behaving otherwise "badly" (i.e. they did something inappropriately mean or wrong, like poaching on my students or gigs, or undercutting and stealing students, classes or gigs, and villainizing me in the end in some ludicrus manner in order to justify their own bad behaviour and reason for breaking off from me).
The Blue Hat was a restaurant that I had been booking and dancing at, and which was poached from me by a former student and "friend" (to be blogged about soon as well) whom I will call "Itch". But, at the time, trying to be a better person and accepting that students sometimes become ambitious and competitive, and that business is business, I decided to try a gig there with my troupe, in spite of the fact that 1. I knew the management and owner wanted only commercially attractive dancers (i.e. white, young, skinny, seemingly available, and pretty girls) and 2. I'd been burned there by the ex-student gone bad who stole my gig there. I wanted to put my differences behind me in order to be able to offer the performance opportunity to my own dancers. My rationale being: Why should they miss out on a good opportunity in the present, because of a bad experience in my past?
My troupe consisted at the time of not-necessarily what is considered commercially attractive. That is, I had women of different ages, weight, sizes, looks, and skin color. But Itch, the ex-student gone bad who had stolen the gig from me and who was obviously now the booking dancer at The Blue Hat assured me that management knew and understood this and that she was definitely sure that we would be acceptable as entertainment that evening.
WRONG.
We rehearsed for our group troupe performances and solos, got all dolled up, brought our family and friends with us, and prepared for our big night there. So there we were, all standing there, dressed and ready to go on, our friends and family sitting at tables and eating and drinking. Everyone eager and happy and excited to see our show, and us, excited and happy to perform it.
While we were arriving and preparing, apparently, management and owner decided that they did not like the look of our troupe members and that they definitely DID NOT want us to perform. Rather than telling me directly, as the Artistic Director of the troupe, the management and owner told a waiter, to tell the band, to tell me (fhew! and how mature is that?), that we in no uncertain terms were NOT to go on.
I cannot describe adequately in words how incredibly horrified and heartbroke and foolish I felt. There we were literally all in costume and standing in the hall waiting for our cue to begin, and all of our friends and family in the restaurant already at tables eating and drinking and waiting to see their loved ones go on. And I had to tell my dancers that we could not perform after all!!!
It was a nightmare for me. And of course, I do not have the heart to even step foot in that place now, after what I had to go through. Itch of course was not there and so was of no help at the moment. Itch had assured me it was OK. Did Itch have no clue what management wanted? Was she being lied to or misled herself? Was this some kind of a set up or sick joke?
So, pardon me if I see the irony in this story; That Air thinks so highly of this place and has no problem going there now, when at the time, she was one of us, and she was there with us, when this happened. But, I guess that is how eager dancers are to experience the satisfaction of performing in public...and I understand that enthusiasm because I too have felt that way as a dancer and new performer: so eager and grateful and happy just to have those few moments of bliss, dancing in public with a live band!
I think it is my sense of principle that makes me unwilling and uninterested to perform in or patronize this place. They put me in the most terrible position possible: insulting and demeaning myself, my dancers, and my art. I can't help but find it ironic that the same dancers, such as Air, who they rejected and inconvenienced in such a shallow and shady way, can justify going there.
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