Sex on the dance floor
Sex on the dance floor
I used to go to this club. It was the kind of club known as much for its great music as its grittiness. The kind of place where if you were too sober, you’d notice just how much your shoes would stick to the floor and the stench coming from every surface.
But this place came alive at night with 80s music and lights so dim you couldn’t see the floor, bodies bumping into one another. I’d spend hours dancing with my friends, stopping only to grab a sip of water or to run to the bathroom, where you’d be waiting in line to pee, making your next best friend, hearing your favourite song and having to toss up just how much longer you could hold it in.
Your feet would burn, and your throat would hurt from the singing, but happiness was the only emotion on that dancefloor. I didn’t have much fun in my late teens and early twenties, but I had no care in the world on that dancefloor with that music.
I don’t dance like that anymore, and I don’t go to clubs like that. I now go to local wine bars to have scintillating conversations and order overpriced negronis from gorgeous humans. Oh, and the fries. Can not forget the fries.
But I crave that feeling I used to get on the dancefloor. Of course, part of it is nostalgia, but the other part is just letting go. (I also probably miss the fact that exercise was once fun and now consists of nearly killing myself on the rowing machine multiple times a week).
I have written before about losing that sense of playfulness as we get older and the adverse effects this can have on our sex lives. Our shoulders get heavier, our backs tighter, and our stresses more pronounced. And let’s not forget the absolute mind fuck of a pandemic we’ve just survived.
And for many of us, letting loose and playing happens so rarely that we’ve forgotten how to do it. It’s a muscle we don’t exercise. We get used to heaviness and a certain way of being. And to play is to feel lightness; it’s to be in that moment and not worry about anything else. The lyrics, the rhythm, the beat of music almost have a hypnotic effect of taking you to another place. A place where we don’t worry about work or relationships or how we look.
So I’m here to tell you that I rediscovered dancing. And it is fun and sexy AF. My partner and I have been having mini-dance parties. It started because my kids go to bed at 7.30pm and sometimes when my partner is putting them to bed, I put my headphones on and I crank the tunes and I dance around my kitchen like nobody is watching. I, of course, watch myself in the reflection of the windows but other than that I am on my solo stage.
But the other weekend, my partner was watching me with a big smile on his face, and he wanted to know what I was listening to. So I introduced him to the ultimate 80s playlist, i.e the music of my club days. Suddenly I was back in that club (just a much cleaner one) with a lot less sweat.
We spent the night dancing around the house. And it was playful and so much fun. It didn’t start off sexy but we danced alone and then together, and it got sexy. I have an extensive collection of outfits, which now you’re in the members area, you will get to see over time), and discovered they were great for dancing in.
But the point of it was that it felt intimate. For the first part of the dancing session, we weren’t necessarily touching, and we weren’t having sex, but we connected in a way that we don’t usually connect. The day's stresses were gone, and we were having fun with each other. And then of course as we touched and danced more, it lead to sex on the dancefloor but it felt natural and the foreplay was magnificent.
And we did the same the following weekend when we stayed in a hotel together. We opted for dancing over dinner and spent two hours in our 11th-floor room overlooking the city dancing non-stop, on the bed, off the bed, in front of the mirror, with sunglasses on, with sunglasses off, with clothes on, with clothes off. And it was amazing.
So below I’m sharing my Sexy 80’s Playlist on Spotify, so you have no excuse not to schedule a dance party with a lover, with yourself or with friends you love.
Love,
Theodora