So normally I invite folks to my events over Facebook.
It's proven remarkably robust.
But recently, Facebook labelled me a spammer, and now I'm
actually unable to invite folks to anything.
Which is deeply unsettling.
Which is why I am moving back to an emailing list solution.
Seriously.
If you like quirky events, please join here!
HERE ARE THE QUIRKY EVENTS FOR MARCH - APRIL 2014:
★★★ MONTREAL STRIP SPELLING BEE - Dark Knight Edition! ★★★
https://www.facebook.com/events/1512302732329876
♥♥♥ MONTREAL QUEER SLOWDANCE! Fling yourself into Spring! ♥♥♥
https://www.facebook.com/events/1382566705352635/
♥♥♥ Toronto QUEER SLOWDANCE - PROM Edition! ♥♥♥
https://www.facebook.com/events/701530073232327
***
It's funny. I never planned to be an event planner.
My whole life I thought I would draw comic books.
And then I went to university and thought I would paint portraits.
And then I got out of university and became a medical illustrator.
And then I wrote a bunch of weird books.
And then somewhere along the line I started putting on events.
The events started as a lark. A bit of a joke.
One night at a event my friend dragged me to, I just got sick
of all the flailing and the music that was relentlessly loud.
I remembered my first slow dance from grade 7.
How nice it was. You held someone and even though you
were rotating, it was like the world was rotating around you.
The two of you, embracing, created your own world.
That memory tugged at me, and like succumbing to a gravitational
pull, I thought to myself, we should do that instead.
I looked over the dancefloor that night. The pounding beat.
Folks standing by themselves, throwing their arms in the air.
Me feeling so alienated from it. I thought to myself,
I want to slow dance again. What's more, I want people to do it
all night long. I laughed to myself. Instead of all these fast songs,
let's just play slow ballads! That would be hilarious.
Would people do it? Why would people do it?
Why would they willingly put themselves in that kind of position
ever again? Where they had to ask someone to dance?
The first person I ever asked to dance said no.
She was a good friend of mine. In grade 4 we used to walk
home together because we lived near the same place.
So when they announced that the next song was the last dance
and that it would be a slow song I went up to her, scared
out of my mind and asked her to dance and she went, "Uh. No."
And I walked away. But then I went back. And I went,
"C'mon. It's the last dance of the night."
And she sighed.
I knew who she wanted to ask her.
She'd been very clear throughout grade 6 about the huge
crush she had on this blond boy in the class.
For the life of me I can't remember his name now.
But anyway, she sighed, said, "All right," and
came out on the dancefloor with me and we danced
to Tiffany's "Could've Been."
She really didn't want to dance with me.
And in truth, I am not sure she was who I would have chosen
were circumstances not what they were.
But I think she was pleased to be asked.
And that's when I realized how lovely it was to slowdance
with someone. What a gift it is that humans can do this.
What a tragedy that folks do it only at weddings and in grade 7.
So why would people willingly put themselves in a position
where they had to risk rejection and ask folks to dance again?
Because it's wonderful.
It's a way of relating that is perfectly in-between
acquaintance and intimate.
So standing by the dancefloor, watching all these solitary dancers,
and remembering my own early experiments with intimacy I thought,
What the hell. Let's try it.
