How I Lost my Slow Dancing Virginity

Posted on 28. Jul, 2010 by Lourdes M. Diaz in Lifestyle

“You get to slow dance in Junior high”, she said as we watched a Laverne and Shirley rerun on TV.

I was in the 4th grade when I first learned about slow dancing from my neighbor’s much older and more sophisticated granddaughter, Melissa. She seemed wise beyond her 13 years and when she gave me advice I listened like an eager investor would listen to a stockbroker. In my innocent mind, slow dancing was something you did with a boy you liked.

As I got older, I came to learn you did other stuff with boys you liked, but slow dancing was the one lovey-dovey gesture you could do with a boy that wouldn’t get you chastised by adults. It was romantic, sweet, innocent, and provocative all at the same time. As I watched that episode of Laverne and Shirley I longed to be that lucky girl swaying to a romantic song with a boy. That night I played, “Everything I Do” by Brian Adams on my Boom Box while I practiced slow dancing with my pillow. I looked more like a tangled mess trying to waltz. A pillow was hardly the warm arms of a boy.

I graduated grammar school in 1989 and couldn’t wait to attend my first official junior high dance: the Welcome Dance. “I hope they play lots of Hip Hop tonight”, said one of the girls while we were getting ready. The room filled with “yeah” and “me too”. “I hope they play a slow song tonight”, I said. The room went silent. The other girls looked at me as if I were an alien. “Slow dancing is for old people”, said one of the girls. “It is?” I asked innocently. “Why would you want to waste your time dancing like our grandparents?” she said. “But I thought slow dancing was something you did in Junior High”, I said. Another chimed in and said “we only dance like the Fly Girls from ‘In Living Color’ because that’s what’s cool and that’s how you get boys to notice you.” I acquiesced because they all had older sisters and I figured they knew what was best, but I still secretly hoped they played a slow song that night.

I wore my cutest ‘90210’-inspired outfit and stood there with my girlfriends, all Latina carbon copies of Brenda Walshes and wannabe Kelly Taylors. We danced in a circle to 90s era rock and Hip Hop. The night was short and before I knew it, the dance was over. They never played a slow song, delaying that sweet moment I wished would happen. Eventually I made it to high school and had yet to slow dance with a boy. I knew prom would absolutely be “the night”. Most girls hope to lose their virginity on Prom night; I was hoping to slow dance. Unfortunately, I got dumped that night- no slow dancing, no dancing period.

He gave me the “I’m not in love anymore” speech and went on his way, leaving me broken hearted. Once again, life had delayed my chances of putting my arms around a boy and allowing him to lead the way on the dance floor. As the years passed, I dated several boys but never had the opportunity to slow dance. I could have asked any one of those boys to pop my slow dancing cherry, but none were special enough, and more importantly, I was too embarrassed to ask.

In September 2009 I started dating the sweetest man on the planet. He was the coolest nerd I had ever met- smart, funny, and witty. By that time, I had forgotten my teenage quest to slow dance with a boy. But, one fateful night, while attending a marathon of holiday parties, he grabbed me in the middle of the room, took my hand, put his arm around my waist, and we started to slow dance. That’s right; at 32, I was undeniably, unequivocally, unmistakably, without doubt, finally, having my first ever, real-life slow dance with a man I adored. This was way different than slow dancing with my pillow. My mind raced with questions: “Where do my hands go?”, “Should I look him in the eyes?”, “Should I talk?”, “Should I kiss him, or should I just smile”? I could feel my body heat rise from the nerves and I accidentally stumbled, which only made the moment all the more memorable. Was it everything I had imagined? Yes!

I think the little nine year-old little girl inside me would have been proud. I felt so special as people looked at us, alone on the dance floor, twirling around. Slow dancing was upright cuddling and I wanted more! I couldn’t get enough. Every time they played a slow song I looked over at my new boyfriend and asked him to dance. I had waited 23 years to slow dance with a boy and now I was finally slow dancing with a real-life man. I confessed my secret to him that night. “What?! Didn’t you go to any dances in Junior high or high school?!”, he asked. “From now on, whenever there’s a slow song, we’re dancing to it”. So far, nine months into our relationship, he’s kept his word. There hasn’t been a slow song we haven’t danced. I still have my rookie moments and I’m still trying to learn not to step on his toes. I shouldn’t be so hard on myself; after all, I’m still a novice at this.

Tags: Relationships, Romance, Slow Dancing