Thursday, 17 January 2008

Strictly Come Pole Dancing

I have, in the past, mentioned I'm a sometime pole dancer. I learnt over the year - although it's more like 6 months - before I came to study Nursing. I was working a well-paid but boring job, and so it seemed like an entertaining use of time.

It was better than that. Advertised as Rock&Pole, i.e. pole dancing to rock music, is really hit a chord with me. Not only that - I was actually quite good at it.

Last night, on a crazed road trip out to Sheffield, we got talking to a group of girls. One of whom mentioning she was a pole dancer. One of my friends mentioned us having a pole-off (not that that's a term or anything. I kinda just made it up) so we did. As I say, I haven't practised for months, but she murdered me.

And I was a broken man. I'd been having a ball until then, but between my tired, drunken limbs and lack of match fitness, I was no match at all. She wasn't a poor winner, and dissapeared into the smoke. But I was broken.

She was, it should be mentioned, fine. Beautiful motherfucker. Dreads and a mini-kilt and a twinkle in her eye.

After 20 minutes of soul searching, which felt like a lot more, I realised I had to get some closure. Despite the fact that the time we spent on the pole is the shortest time it's ever taken me to fall for someone, I wasn't bothered about that. I wanted to apologise to her for being a bit of a let down, really. Professional pride, baby.

So I did. And we chatted, and had a giggle. She's actually a professional dancer at Spearmint Rhino, which is the dog's bollocks of such dancing clubs, and practices every day. We parted on a happy note, myself remade bigger, better and bad-asser with her lovely self as the catalyst, and I feel right out of love. Which is good, 'cause it turns out she was a bit of a prick, in the end.

But, sometimes the really addictive ones are. Fuck safety.

Anyway, I considered going to pole classes again, as expensive and time consuming (I'd have to do a two hour round trip to one) as they are. But even then, I'll have to stop when I go back into practice placement. Instead I may save up and buy a pole myself. I may not be able to install it in this crappy student accomodation, but my best mates may let me put it up and practice there.

The point is - I would not have been so easily dispatched in my prime. If I ever get a chance to have a rematch with this dreadlocked Goddess of a woman, I'm not going to let myself down.

It's hard to explain, but I know what I mean. And it makes me feel better.

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