At My Nephew's Wedding, Will I Be “Dancing With Myself?”

Reflections on not going full-tilt asshole

My nephew is getting married in July to a sweetheart of a young woman. I love him dearly, as I do his sister and brother. They’re my sister’s kids and she did a hell of a job with them.

We always have a good time when we hang out. I could be kidding myself, but I believe they think I’m a “cool aunt.” They appreciate my being a writer. Why I can only surmise, but I suspect that’s due to the unfortunate fact that some millennials consider people of my age to be doddering, incontinent, old farts whose brain cells dried up along with their libidos.

Well, fuck them and anyone else who thinks like that.

My sister’s kids and I have done shots together, smoked weed together and I’ve always felt comfortable “letting my hair down” around them. Note, I don’t try to “act younger,” but I don’t believe and never have that age should define us. And, there’s nothing I do in their company that I wouldn’t do on my own, except for pounding shots. No can do, nor should I.

At my former place of employment, when I was a lead singer in a band, along with a few good-buddy coworkers, the kids brought their friends to our gigs. I think the thought of Aunt Sherry covering everyone from Nirvana to The Doors to Patti Smith was a kick for them. It certainly was for me. I felt vibrant and sexy, even as I was undergoing radiation therapy for breast cancer.

So, why am I wondering how I will be perceived at my nephew’s upcoming wedding? Because this past year has drained me, as it has you. And I’m concerned that in an attempt to regain my “spark,” I might behave in a manner some would consider untoward.

Life has felt so constricted, no? Don’t you ever feel like you could jump right out of your skin?

On an average day, my focus is shit yet oddly, I’m writing on several platforms almost obsessively like, as my friend Suzanne V. Tanner wrote here in Rogues’ Gallery, a hamster on a wheel.

I’m betting many here can relate. It’s been tough trying to stay “up,” especially on those days when getting out of bed is a herculean effort. So, we operate on autopilot in order to get through another dull slog of a day.

But, getting through is not living.

Our collective situation is improving though, I get that. I feel blessed that my husband and I are fully vaccinated, and more brick-and-mortar businesses are opening up. And therein lies the rub, in a sense. When you spend a year in virtual isolation and suddenly, a sense of normally returns, it’s tempting to behave as if you’ve just been released from a stint in stir.

Been there, done that, in fact, at a dinner at my nephew’s home a few months back. The same one who is to be wed this summer.

Yeah, I lost it. He poured really big drinks and I enjoyed every single one of them. I made an asshole of myself. Full-tilt. More on that in the link, below.

When I was around the kids’ age, I loved hanging out with my aunts and uncles. My Italian mom’s three sisters and one brother were a bunch of stone-cold lunatics. In the best possible way. Funny AF and fun to be around.

At family dinners and events, my cousins and I always hung with the older folks. They were a rabble-rousing, hard-partying bunch. My dad’s family was much smaller — he had one married brother — but Uncle Seymour and Aunt Marilyn were a blast, as well. Until the fighting began. Best not to go into that, now.

But, that was then. And I believe we were more evolved than the self-absorbed, social media-obsessed kids of today. Please don’t jump down my throat for that. I don’t have kids, by choice, but I do have a brain and I know what I see. And they are indeed obsessed with themselves.

My cousins and I talked to our aunts and uncles. We didn’t toss out a cursory “hey” and then block our faces with cell phones. Then again, we didn’t have any.

As previously stated, though, my sister’s kids aren’t like that with me. Or, my husband, albeit, he’s a lot more reserved than I am. And, if truth be told, I think what I’m stressing over is my innate ability to cut loose at the flick of a switch. You know, that switch we all have in our heads.

The full-tilt asshole switch.

Some of us are more adept than others when it comes to controlling the urge to let go, and go nuts. I’m not one of them, but I’m practicing.

With that said, I want to have a good time, damn it. Without reservation but also, without those shitty, morning-after regrets.

Do you know that controversial scene in the 2002 film, Monster’s Ball when Halle Berry and Tommy Lee Jones get it on for the first time? The one where she growls:

“You know what I want… I want you to make me feel good. Can you make me feel good, can you make me feel good?”

That’s me. Of course, partying is not fucking, but still. I want to feel good without crossing the line into asshole territory. I want to have a ball. Wear a slightly sexy dress and one of my three hundred red lipsticks and feel “right” again. More like myself.

Can any of you guys relate? Certainly, I can’t be the only one who's made an asshole of themselves during this pandemic, right?

Right?

Regardless, I don’t want to ruin my nephew’s day or embarrass my long-suffering husband, so I have to find that sweet spot where I can enjoy myself without going full-tilt asshole.

I will do it. I will muster up the self-control to behave with a (modicum) of dignity. I will not do shots, no matter how many times I’m asked. Okay, maybe one. One little Tito’s shot. How bad can that be?

Oh, the dancing thing. I’ve been known to dance by myself, with abandon. I recall years ago, the advertising agency where I worked hosted a lavish holiday bash at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago. Top shelf booze and food everywhere, along with not one, but two swing bands, when swing was a thing.

At one point, I hit the dance floor alone and whirled around and around like I was Cyd Charisse. I remember a couple of my co-workers, a guy and a gal, good buddies both, standing on the sidelines watching. Saying they looked “bemused” is understating it.

Finally, I heard the guy say, “I’ll go get her,” and he did. He kept me from going full-tilt asshole as I was on my way. When I think about him, it’s with gratitude and more than a little heat, as I had a major crush on him, even though he was several years younger.

He was done up like Sinatra for that party. I especially remember his hat. Super-cool.

But, I digress. At my nephew’s upcoming wedding I will do my absolute best to make him proud. And when I wake up the next morning, I will remember every delightful minute as I will not have gone full-tilt asshole.

But, if I have to, and the music is right, fuck it. If it’s good enough for Billy Idol, “Mr. White Wedding,” I’m dancing with myself.

So let’s sink another drink ’Cause it’ll give me time to think If I had the chance I’d ask the world to dance And I’d be dancing with myself, oh-oh

“Oh-oh,” is right.

© Sherry McGuinn, 2021. All Rights Reserved.

Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times, and numerous other publications. Sherry’s soon-to-be-ex-manager is currently NOT pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.

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