Dancing

It's 11:19, and I just arrived home from too many hours of wedding, and I'm exhausted.  And I stink of bug spray.  So this will be short.

The wedding was lovely - a big, spirited celebration of two young women who fell in love at (of all places) bible college.  It was wonderful to see so many people from a fairly conservative religious community come together for a wedding that not everyone in their community supports.  And the Indian buffet was fabulous.

What stands out most for me about the day, however, isn't something specific to a same-sex wedding.  It's the dancing.  After the ceremony and eating and many, many speeches, the backyard where the wedding was held was turned into one enormous dance floor, and almost everyone got up and danced.  In the beginning, I managed to pass as someone who isn't terrible at dancing, but after a few songs, my energy level began to wane, and my awkwardness became apparent.  I suck at dancing.

I wish I didn't.  I wish I could be one of the uninhibited people who has a great time on the dance floor, instead of the all too self aware nerd who stands on the edge of the group looking uncomfortable.  But that's always been me.  And probably always will be.