Please Remove Your Badonkadonk From My Groove Thing

last_waltz-underwoodEleven years ago, one of the great tragedies of my life occurred. I went to prom.

Grace, the World interjects, you obviously mistyped that. Prom isn’t a tragedy! Prom is the most magical night of a young girl’s life, filled with romance and sparkles and unicorn fluff. It’s right up there with Getting Married and Bleeding From the Uterus on the list of days that define a woman. You loved prom, Grace. You felt like Pretty Princess Grace of Prettyville. Tell the people the truth!

Okay, fine. I totally felt like a princess. My hair, long and blonde, was artfully curled into Lana Turner waves and my dress was—to date—one of the most gorgeous things I’ve ever worn. With the agreement that I would wear it to both junior and senior proms, my mom splurged on an espresso-colored silk taffeta ball gown, embellished with a trailing spiral of embroidered copper roses. It was fancy pants. It was—let’s be honest—fucking baller. It didn’t matter that my date was a complete stranger, or that we were going to Macaroni Grill for dinner. This was a bewitching night of wonderment!

Well, it was until we arrived at the actual prom, anyway. Despite having attended many 21st century dances, I expected more from this one. Prom was classy! Prom was magical! Prom was when boys turned from smelly dorks into Cary Grant. I was born to go to prom.

In my mind, prom looked like this:


I was deranged. My grasp on reality dulled by too many viewings of Meet Me in St. Louis. For modern prom, of course, looks like this:

tumblr_mi9rzcT4MJ1s4xdz1o1_250My brain exploded. Grey matter splattered everywhere, as dreams were dashed. Rubbing crotches with that guy who sits behind you in Calculus is not dancing. It’s dry humping. There’s nothing wrong with it, explicitly, but it probably shouldn’t be done in public and it definitely shouldn’t be mistaken for “moving rhythmically to music, using prescribed or improvised steps and gestures.” There was no magic that night, only awkward fumbling.

Our society is crumbling, readers. When did people decide that oafish twitching was a proper substitute for the waltz? In less than fifty years, we’ve gone from turns and technique to shuffling side to side, pumping our pelvises. Teenagers don’t learn to dance anymore, they learn to pantomime sex. With a bit of booty shaking and crotch grabbing, we imagine ourselves to be Beyonce or Justin Timberlake.

No, darlings, just no. This is the great lie of modern culture. What they’re doing is Hip Hop. It’s actual, legit dancing that takes a lot of practice and talent. What we’re doing is ungainly grinding. These are not the same thing! This is why clubs are the most horrid of places. A strange man rubbing his hardening junk against your badonkadonk is not dancing, but sexual harassment. In what other setting would this be appropriate? When browsing the history aisle of Barnes & Noble, dudes do not gyrate their manhoods against me. If they did, cops would be called! In a dimly lit club, however, this is accepted behavior.

Shouldn’t dancing be readily distinguishable from a criminal misdemeanor? Maybe I sound like that old woman next door, yelling at meddlesome kids to stop trampling her petunias, but I refuse to grind When friends ask me to go dancing, they should mean swing dancing. I want my skirt to twirl and my heart to race! There should be minimal chance of my partner imitating a Great Pyrenees on Viagra, in the process. Someone, anyone, bring the standards and the sexy back.

I don’t want to get my freak on, kittens, I just want to tango!

– Grace


41 thoughts on “Please Remove Your Badonkadonk From My Groove Thing

  1. HUGE TRIPLE YESYESYES!!! hate clubs, it’s meat market really where girls display themselves and guys take their chances, it’s got NOTHING to do with dancing :/

  2. I love dirty dancing and have spent years of my life dancing salsa, merengue, bachata, cumbia etc. I was in no way prepared for the horror I would experience when I chaperoned a high school dance. I CRINGED at what was going on. I, the one who thought that she had danced the “dirtiest” dances of them all. What horrified me the most? The fact that girls would bend over at the waist and spend an entire song with a guy grinding at them from behind, without ever seeing the face of the person behind them. It is objectifying and degrading that women are reduced to that role in a “dance.” There is nothing redeemable about it. I am glad that “Dancing with the Stars” is taking off and gaining popularity. I pray that someday true partner dancing will return.

    • Jessica, I would just like to amen everything in your comment. The objectification aspect of this “dancing” has always enraged me. Back in college, when my friends could actually talk me into going to clubs, I was revolted by the guys who would just come up and start touching my ass from behind…all without seeing my face. What the fuck? We are not sex robots, we are people. Real dancing does not confuse the two.

  3. Funny story. 4 years ago I was teaching at high school and was chosen to chap prom. Yay. The little darlings formed a sort of dry-hump conga line around the room, which ultimately collapsed, leaving students floundering around, tangled up with one another in an attempt to stand up. The sad part was that all the girls were wearing microminis that year, most of them strapless. Poor dears.

    • Ha! Oh, heavens. I shouldn’t laugh, but…that sounds entirely too much like dance karma. That so rarely happens, when people are salsa dancing.

    • Yes! Yes, yes, yes please. Cary Grant is, hands down, my number one Hollywood crush of all time and To Catch A Thief is one of my favorite movies. It’s the perfect trifecta of Hitchcock, Grant, and Kelly.

      • I’m not going to lie, I had a point in my life where I really hated my job, and all I looked forward to on Friday nights was coming home and watching a Hitchcock movie. Cary Grant sure knows how to cheer a girl up.

  4. I have a theory that many guys would actually be happy to return to the days of actual dancing, with steps. Because then they’d know what to do instead of bobbing around awkwardly.

    • Yes! I think you might be onto something, Christina. Professor McGregor has actually taken swing dancing lessons for this exact reason. He wanted actual instruction for something other than bobbing.

  5. Ha! This is awesome. And totally right, of course. I went to a waltz in Seattle once. All the fellas were between 60 and 90, but they could dance! They could lead! It was brilliant!

  6. Well said and exactly my sentiment. You are so right, dancing for youngsters at night clubs these days is nothing more than sexual pantomime, it is vulgar and is completely lacking in grace. There was something so elegant and charming about the grace and formality of the good old days.

    • Precisely! I wish there was some way we could bring back that part of the good old days, at least. I long for something more elegant than this.

  7. The idea of having a proper, real dance with my man brings a massive smile to my face. Like you said, it’s just so damn elegant. Shows class and style and that you want to have a nice dance around rather than gyrating like a fool.

    One of the many reasons I just avoided clubbing in my youth. Did not like this at all.

    • Jaina, it’s so nice to know I’m not the only one our age who hated clubbing. My friends would have to cajole me quite a bit, before I’d agree to go. Actual dancing, however? I’d drag Professor McGregor there in a red hot minute.

  8. Completely with you on this one!!!! and my prom experience was exactly the same… I think I am still in after-shock although almost 13 years have passed.

  9. Actually, as a 25 year old who is technically firmly in the “young whippersnapper” and “clubber” bracket…I would *love* for there to be actual *dancing* at places. I adore ballroom dancing, or even just plain old waltzing…but no. And it’s even more frustrating living in the South, where line and square dancing is an accepted form of movement. While I suppose it’s better than nothing, to me it always looks utterly ridiculous and, having tried to engage in it myself once, *feels* absolutely ridiculous.

    I think what it comes down to is a) many men are lazy and like to rub their junk on things so therefore see no reason to change, and b) real dancing takes actual skill, concentration, and the desire to put effort into something. Sadly these are qualities many people lack in our current society. =/

  10. Brilliant post! I also do not go to clubs. It’s all the sweaty strangers nudging up against me in what the kids are now calling ‘dancing.’ And then they try and talk to you, these ‘dancing’ strangers. They use what they believe to be witty lines to get you to dance with them. As a young clubgoer, the witty line was my most hated thing. A young man waiting next to me at the bar gave me a witty line about being dropped from heaven or something, then said, “Can I buy you a drink?” So I said, “I’d rather just have the money, thanks.” O yes. I am the queen of cool.

  11. Pingback: Please Remove Your Badonkadonk From My Groove Thing | Nonsense and Wisdom

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