As we prepare to for a much-needed Thanksgiving break, I envision all of the luxuries of being at home – frequenting my favorite restaurants, reconnecting with high school friends and sleeping without an alarm. But what am I most excited to get away from this holiday break? Dancing — or lack thereof, depending on your definition.
Dancing in college is basically dry humping with clothes on. There. I said it. Having a boyfriend for most of my college experience, it has never really been an issue with me personally, but from my keen skill of eaves-popping (like eaves-dropping but with your eyes), I have seen some pretty indelicate stuff. I’ve always had this policy against dancing with guys I don’t know, but you can call me the anomaly. And seriously, it gets pretty graphic here at Stanford.
Now, I’ve probably made everyone uncomfortable and annoyed some got-no-game boys, but guess what, fellas, it’s no secret. We know you just want to touch our butts. It’s just that some of us like it. Surprise! Relieved? Shocked? Don’t be; grinding on your package is not quite subtle.
You can tell a lot about a guy by the way he tries to get a girl to dance. First there are his eyes: the around-the-room survey or just walking up to a girl from behind. No, don’t ask if you can dock here. Just go ahead. (No. Sarcasm. Do not do this.). Then there’s the motion that says come hither. Listen guys, this should be smooth.
Finally, one thing that’s always sort of baffled me is the placement of the hands. Hips, upper thighs, in her hands—these are okay places to put your man-hands, but not on the stomach. She’s not pregnant, and you’re not cradling her unborn child. If this chick is pregnant, you probably should not be dancing with her and should instead make eyes with the back of some other girl’s head.
Thankfully, the spoils of home include safety from gross boys on frat dance-floors. Until return to the Farm, at least I have that.