I don't get how dancing in a club works. All I know is when you, dear reader, modestly sway from side to side whilst lazily hopping, flapping your hands like a toddler asking for "uppees" or gesturing at the floor like it owes you money, I remind myself that I haven't just entered a room full of autistics stimming with reckless abandon - (couldn't be, it's too loud) no!...this is dancing. There is a right AND wrong way to dance in this tradition. And this is Old Town Scottsdale. These people are sophisticated. Better make my way through the bog of vape and Axe deodorant body spray to a secluded spot right next to the big black fuzzy rectangle table where I can take some fuckin' notes. But then the red light on the black fuzzy table with speakers turned blue, and it made me void my bowels a split second before my pint of Guinness shattered on the floor. A lucky break, in hindsight, to have been drinking something frothy and brown. Alhough, glow-in-the-dark tape is not *really a viable lightsource now, is it? Nah, it's really not. Can't see shit. Irony. So anyway I don't like dancing solo. No matter what you do, you look ridiculous. Whether you got a blowup doll, a pocket pussy, tube sock... if you ain't got a partner, you're just jerkin' yourself off in bed. And that's a real pity because bed IS a dancefloor. It can be all the Disney reasons too of course. Sweet nothings and ugly crying in the dark with your love. I get that. But it's also an art, a game, a hobby, a sport, a way to stay in shape, a discipline to master or skill to learn... But only with good dance partners. I'm a skilled eroticist, seeking others like me who need good partners to make this little hobby of ours more than just a kinky narcissistic secret. Film our dances, edit them into beautiful content, and regain some sanity in this day and age while wearing the least amount of clothing possible.

• 41 years old
• Male
• 9,655 views
• Joined 5 years ago