Wobble Drop and Twerk

Strange things happen to me. I don’t know why. It baffles me sometimes too.  Maybe because I don’t discount these things and forget them as nonsense.  Maybe because I try to stay alert for the unusual and interesting things in my life and not zone out or just stumble through life. I want to experience everything that enters my world.  Saturday night, it happened again.

First off, you have to know what The Wobble Dance is.  It’s a popular line dance at almost every dance bar out there – Country Western dance hall, Swing Dance venue and at almost every wedding reception you’ll ever go to.Take a look at this video if you’re not familiar with it but don’t get lost in some video tangent for an hour while you follow the next video and the next video and on and on. Come back and continue reading after you get the drift of the dance I’m talking about:

Ok, so – I was at The Big Texas dance hall Saturday with my new friend Anita. She’s an awesome dancer and we danced all night. Still getting to know each other.  Great dances and loads of fun.  So during the music rotation, the DJ played a few Line Dances and eventually, he played The Wobble.  Anita chose to sit this one out but being the crazy dance fool that I am, I headed out and joined in the crowded dance floor and got my ‘Wobble’ on.  The floor was full of dancers, young and old, short and tall, skilled and not so skilled. It’s all fun. You just watch the people in front of you until you get the steps down, then have fun by adding your own flair as you repeat the steps a thousand times during the song.

So I’d gotten the pattern down, I began adding my own little swagger with some hips and shoulders going and I make my 1/4 turn rotation to end that phrase and begin the next series of wobble moves.  As I make my first bunny-hop forward though, I hear what sounds like a heavy wooden block hitting the wooden dance floor next to me – as if someone had dropped a 4×4 block of wood – solid and heavy with the sound that wood makes when it hits the ground.

I turned to my right quickly to see what had happened and there on the floor next to me was a sexy, gorgeous blond gal in short white shorts and boots, down on her hands and knees twerking away like some stripper who answers to the name ‘Cheyenne’ at the Centerfold strip club down in Houston. I mean, she was sprawled out there on the floor, legs spread wide, her white shorts flipping up and down in her doggy-style position. And, being the honorable man that I am, I took my one look, thanked God for this lovely creature having solo sex on the floor next to me, and went back to grooving on my own very cool wobble dance moves.

She’s young. Very sexy and hot. Blonde. Probably mid 20’s. Cowboy boots. Tiny, white short-shorts. Legs…I mean LEGS!  Those long, tall, Texas legs that girls have down here.  Probably skunk drunk. Most likely trying to impress her new cowboy boyfriend.  Plus she seemed to imply by this improvisational move that she was doing down there on the floor, that she had some advanced degree of knowledge of how the human species can modify the traditional mating ritual and that she could do more than just the unstylistic missionary position in bed.  She could twerk. Cool. She’ll be popular with the guys, I’m sure.

As I make my next 1/4 rotation and begin the next repetition of the wobble with my bunny-hop forward, again I hear that same sound of the heavy block of wood hitting the dance floor and…she’s down again!  Sprawled out and twerking away again!  It’s her cowboy boot’s heels – that’s what is hitting the floor and making that sound. Those wooden heels and -I guess her knees too- that hit the floor and make that heavy knock of wood dropping on wood.

So, again I’m thinking to myself, ‘One look. Thank God for these unexpected blessings in life. Turn and keep dancing’. I’m doing everything right and most likely scoring points with Anita as I’m sure she had seen all of this happening too.  Good boy.  Eyes straight ahead.  Stop looking at the sexy, drunk blonde next to me on the floor twerking away.  Good boy.

So, I return to my Wobble Dance, get my groove going again by adding a few dance footsteps and a little more arms and shoulders. Fun.  Just dancing.  As I was doing these moves, out of the corner of my eye, I see her swing an arm out in my direction and kind of snap a finger and point at me.  I look at her face and she’s giving me a great big smile of approval and then points down to my feet.  She saw that I could dance.  In dance language, gesturing to a body part like your hips or in this case, my feet –  means that the person liked the moves you just did and is encouraging you to add some more, or step it up another notch.  And being the pretty proficient dancer that I am, I answered that call with a little more foot shuffling and some cool chugga-chugga side moves with my hips and shoulders.  Nothing unusual or out of line but you know, just having fun dancing back with her.

In my head, just like in the movies, I’m imagining that at this point, the crowd begins to separate, the spotlight is finding us on the dance floor and this chick is kind of diggin’ on Wayne-o-rama. The smoke machine starts to fill the place with smoke.  Neon blue and fushia colored rays of light shoot above our heads.  She’s mid 20’s and I’m, well ….ok, this is my dream sequence, ok…so I’m thinking that I’m this handsome, middle aged, cool rockin’ daddy, a sexy son of of a gun as well…also in, shall we say, in my late 20’s as well (Shut up! This is my dream sequence!) She’s probably thinking, ‘Hey, this is a pretty cool dude out here dancing next to me’.  And in my brain, all of those crazy hormones begin to cloud my rational thinking and my inner John Travolta is about to come out.  I make my 1/4 turn, add a little more hips and maybe, just maybe, I might have bent down a little and did a quick twerk back at her.  I’m not sure. I may have.  Not saying I did. Not saying I didn’t.  But I might have.

What she’s actually thinking though is probably more along the line of ‘Hey! Paw Paw’s busting’ a move here. He’s got a little game for an old dude. He’s a safe, crusty old bald guy who I can play with and not worry about him trying to grope me like the rest of the cowboys in this meat market. I think I’ll give him a thrill and flirt with him a little bit. Tease him so he’ll go home and hump up on grandma tonight.’  That’s probably more what she was really thinking.

Do you know how you feel when you think you’re dancing really good but you’re drunk and you’re not really dancing all that good but everyone is laughing and watching you so you still think you’re dancing good?  Ever had that happen?  Well, between the two of us, that’s probably what’s happening.  The folks along the railing in the bar were probably watching this thinking to themselves, ‘Oh my Gawd! That drunk girl is embarrassing the shit out of us and that old man is thinking he’s cool enough to hang with it. Oh Gawd! Someone throw some ice water on them and make them go sit down’

But that didn’t happen.

Instead, we made two more rotations of the Wobble  until she got herself pointed at the people on the outside rail again and Plunk!  There she goes again. Down on the floor. She dropped and twerked again! As a matter of fact, every time we rotated around, she dropped and hit the floor each and every time.  Even I have to admit that was a bit odd. Worse still, is that now that we had made visual contact and I had obviously turned her on with my own fabulous dancing skills, she was looking at me to help her up off of the floor this time.  So, I helped her up and the dancing resumed. Fun enough. Life is good. I’m the coolest dude on the dance floor.  I get a blurred camera close up and the movie fades to dark. The End. Roll the credits. But wait….there’s more.

The Wobble song ends and as all good dancers do, you hug each other and tell each other that you have fun.  But in this case, the DJ had put another really good groovin’ country tune on, and she latched onto me in a 2-Step embrace and….now we’re dancing in closed position, my hand around her back, her hand clasping my shoulder…and we’re dancing together!  And she won’t let go! She’s doing her Aggie Shuffle, which no serious dancer would ever do (snobs that we are) and which is virtually impossible to do anything with when you’re trying to do Western Swing with its Tuck Turns and lady’s spins and turns.  Nope, I can’t do ANYTHING with her.  She is strong and she is not letting go of me with either hand.  I can’t break free to swing her out and I can’t reel her in to stabilize her damn shuffle.  Impossible. So, I do what every good male social dancer does – we make the dance fun. My mindset is, I want the lady I’m dancing with to think that was the best dance she’s ever had and it was all because she was such a good dancer that it all went so good.  I want to adapt and quickly learn what I can do to make her feel that way too. It’s part of the game.  We’re out here to have a good time, not to have a dance lesson. So, that’s what I did.  We turned and spun. We urgh tried to do a ugh Tuck Turn but nope, that didn’t work. So we turned and spun and I tried to set her up for a lady’s Outside Turn and urgh …nope, no outside turn. She is glued and frozen in this frame and she will. not. let. go.

One time and one time only, I finally got her to let go and I tucked her under and out for a nice swing move.  Almost lost her.  She wasn’t steady on her feet, rather, on her boots. So I reeled her back in and she clamped on again. Locked on.  This time, she wouldn’t let go to save my life. So, I just smiled and enjoyed dancing her safely in our little space while doing a few nice turns and adding some fancy footwork here and there. And then it was done.  We hugged. Laughed. And walked proudly off the dance floor.

I’m thinking, ‘Uh Huh! That’s how a guy like me dances with a gal like her.  Separated by age and dance abilities, we had a great time and shared what only a dancer can experience when you have one of those amazing, unexpected dances that you’ll remember forever. She  was definitely glad that she got to dance with WayneToTheMax.  She’ll go home and write about me in her journal.  She’ll tell her girlfriends about this cool dude she danced with.  She’ll probably dream about me too.’

But most likely what she’s really thinking is ‘Thank Gawd that old dude didn’t drop me. He wouldn’t let go of me and he couldn’t even do the Aggie Shuffle!  I wonder why my knees are hurting. Where’s my boyfriend?  Where’s my beer? I bet everybody was turned on by my twerk. I wonder if I need to put on some more lip gloss? Why do my knees hurt? I bet all of my girlfriends wish they could have gotten out there and twerked like me.  I wonder if I got any text messages? I wonder who’s posted something on Instagram? What time is it? I gotta pee.’

I walked off of the dance floor and found Anita.  Remember this is just our 2nd date. She just got an ‘eyefull’ of Wayne. She didn’t reject me, though. Maybe she was still stunned by the whole thing.  Anyway, we’ll probably talk about it later.  But just then, the DJ put on another great 2-Step song…and off we went, dancing together for another hour solid.  Just me and Anita. In a tight, warm, safe embrace. Feeling her body pressed softly against mine. Romantically floating around the dance floor.

Without twerking.


About Wayne to the Max

Active writer, dancer, traveler, Christian and father, aviation enthusiast, photographer, music lover and a DJ, hiker, Harley driver and fine wine drinker. My digital photo artist page: www.WayneToTheMax.com
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