When I dance, it looks like I’m desperately trying to shake a spider out of my shirt while also valiantly fighting the overwhelming urge to rip my clothes off to oust said spider. So, yeah, this is me. Glad to put a name to it. I balter, folks. I balter like a motherf**ker.
You know, growing up I just always thought that slow dances would somehow play more of an active role in my adult life. In fact, if you ever watch Hallmark Channel movies, they too feed into the whole slow dance myth…in virtually every movie, couples end up slow dancing at some point in time. The realities of adulthood are so disappointing. Or maybe I’m just hanging out with the wrong people.