I cannot dance. No way, no how. You’ve heard of the tone deaf? I am dance deaf. It takes all my concentration to stand in one spot and sway to the music. I just have no feeling for it. When they do the wave in arenas, I’m always too early or too late. I’m standing when the people around me have already sat down. I’m sitting when they are standing. When people clap along to songs in concerts, I have to watch their hands to know what I’m supposed to do. But I compensate for not be able to dance by being cranky and unpleasant.

I bring this up because there is always some woman at a party (I’m talking about you, Veronica!) who after a few drinks thinks I should dance with her. And no, she doesn’t want to foxtrot around the living room, she wants “Saturday Night Fever” with all the bells on.

“Oh, come on, come on. I love this song.”

“This isn’t a song, it’s a drum solo.” Oh, and did I mention that the person who wants you to dance is always a great dancer? They have rhythm, they have grace, they have style. No wonder no one wants to dance with them. Because even if you could do more than sway in one spot, you’d look like a jerk.