You Should Be Dancing…

Summary

In 1978, a young, shy tennis professional reflects on his experiences with the disco culture at a bar, contrasting his lack of dance skills and confidence with a less-skilled player's success in attracting women through dance.

Abstract

Set in a bar between Georgia and Manhattan, the narrative unfolds with the author, an Australian tennis professional, and his friends observing the disco scene. Despite their athletic prowess, they struggle to engage with women, unlike a less competent tennis player who excels on the dance floor. The author attributes their lack of success to a combination of shyness and the era's disco culture, which favored dancing over other talents. The story concludes with the author's relief as the disco era wanes, giving way to new musical influences that diminish the importance of dance skills.

Opinions

The author and his friends, while skilled in tennis, felt inadequate in the disco scene due to their lack of dance skills and confidence.
They were envious and puzzled by the success of a less talented tennis player who was able to attract women through his dance moves.
The author admits to a lack of courage to engage with women, which he believes was a significant factor in their inability to connect with them.
The author expresses a sense of relief and gratitude towards new musical trends that arrived post-disco, which helped shift the focus away from dance skills.

You Should Be Dancing…

1978*. A long forgotten bar somewhere between Georgia and the Manhattan skyline. Me and me mates— two Aussie pros, barely stayin’ alive as we plied our skills in the grimy underbelly of professional tennis’ minor leagues — were sitting at a table watching other people put on their boogie shoes. Fatty and Warren were drinking beers, and I was sipping 7-Ups as we endured another night on disco mountain. We watched in shock and disbelief as one of the worst players on the circuit — a “poser” who never won a match — was jive talkin’ the hottest girls in the club and then turning the dance floor into a disco inferno.

Given the amount of neck hair, Neanderthal features and uni-brow, we just couldn’t figure out how this guy was succeeding.

Of course, we didn’t have the courage to ask anyone. That might have been the reason we never caught even the mildest case of night fever. I yearned to ask a girl “how deep is your love,” but could never find the magic words — that open sesame to help me win her over. On the other hand, I’m not sure I wanted to risk spending the night with a girl who was more than a woman.

Thank the Lord, the weirdness that was Ric Ocasek and The Cars came out a couple of months later. I had some new musical heroes, and never had to worry about disco dancing again.

*A real memory, told from my perspective 38 years ago as a young, horny, but painfully shy athlete.