Originally published in Cafe Philos: an internet cafe.

When Danielle was 22, she wanted to go to an erotic dance club. She
did not want to go alone, however, and instead, she thought it was a
good idea for me to take her.

The first time she brought it up with me, I was skeptical.

Erotic dance in this town is very much hit or miss. You are lucky to
find a dancer who can express her sexuality through dance. I feared
Danielle would encounter some poor dancers and consequently be hard
pressed to understand what good erotic dance is all about.

The second time she brought it up with me, I was reluctant.

I was only a little younger than Danielle the first time I saw an
erotic dance, and the dancer was so numbingly awful, I didn’t go back
for 27 years.

In hindsight, I understand what that dancer’s problem was: She
wasn’t dancing her own sexuality. Instead she was going through a
series of motions someone perhaps had mistakenly told her were sexy.
Most likely, she was pandering to the crowd for tips. Witnessing that
ugly farce was enough to put me off erotic dance for almost 30 years. I
certainly didn’t want Danielle’s first experience to be anything like
mine.

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