Finally some news, real news, and not the kind Fox News fabricates,
For first time in the history of the world (of which I am aware), my name has appeared on Facebook. I was blind-sided. I learned of this stupendous event only because I was informed by someone foolish enough to waste time on this modern instrument of self-delusion.
The above was written by a women I met for the first time last night. I was at a dinner with my wife and her customers, of which this one is one. My wife occasionally mentions customers, but I had not heard of this women, who I have since learned is obsessed with my with and wants to be like her. She is, supposedly, a successful computer consultant.
As way of background, my wife owns a large, successful dancing school and is a well-known personality in the region. She uses her maiden, so few know her married name. Very few of her customers know me, because my only contribution to the business is the occasional changing of a light bulb or driving a nail into a wall to hang a picture. But, she often tells stories about me and my distinct lack of interest in dancing to entertain her customers. I liken this to Dame Edna’s jokes about her fictional husband or Phyllis Diller’s use of Fang in her monologues. Many think that I am also a figment of my wife’s imagination. I doubt that anyone gives this a second thought after chuckling at her tales or cares one bit about what I do or do not do.
The above-mentioned women has been a customer since she was 14 and has been hearing about my aversion to dancing. Therefore, she was surprised to witness me dance one time with my wife at this dinner. She felt that this was momentous that the event needed to be recorded on Facebook. I cannot imagine why anyone would be interested, but the fact does prove the vapidness of this tool and the emptiness of this woman’s life.
Konrad Lorenz, the Austrian scientist who claimed that man is a social being, failed to reckon with the likes of me. Unless faced with prison and/or the death penalty, I will not use social media such as Facebook, Twitter, or their ilk. It’s bad enough that I concoct this worthless blog...
Today was not a day to write. Today was a day of labor.
Still, I will bore you with the facts.
The Dancing School is being renovated; the old bar area is being torn out and something more modern, more bright, and more expensive will be erected.
I do not contribute much to the dancing school, because my presence would have a negative impact on the business. My main contribution is opening the door early in the morning for workers...or, occasionally, toiling in the garden, when no customers are around, because the women in the family tend to sleep late. My dislike of dancing is useful to my wife, which she uses anecdotally to entertain customers. Men, who have been dragged to dance class by wives, girlfriends, or mothers enjoy stories about my repulsion and (feigned) ineptitude. This is not unlike Phillis Diller’s use of Fang and Dame Edna’s “husband”.
Today, I arose at around six to be present to open the door for the men dismantling the old bar, tearing out old electrical connections. re-routing water and heating pipes, and cooling technicians unhooking useful connections.
Because an acquaintances died yesterday of a heart attack, my wife and daughter refused to allow me to lift a finger (which I still did: my heart is fine). Mostly, I watched and discussed changes.
Tomorrow is another day of opening the door...
I am impressed by talented people that devote their lives to the performing arts. These people hard for long hours to perfect and maintain their craft. It is unfortunate that such talent is so poorly remunerated, with the exception or the few that make inordinate sums.
Tonight, we enjoyed a performance of the dance show Burn Up The Floor in London’s West End. Even if you are, like me, a non-dancer, this is a very entertaining way to spend a few hours of your life. This show has been running for six years, after debuting in Australia, and is performed at different cities around the world. You can only hope that it comes to a city near you or is running in a city you visit.
I do not like to dance.
That said, I do like to watch people dancing the Charleston in old movies.I would even consider learning this and would not be bothered about making a fool of myself, but....
My wife owns a large, successful dancing school. Dancing is popular in Germany, with many joining clubs after successive levels of instruction and hoofing it each week.
I do not like to dance, which makes me a rather typical male. I have the good fortune that, when on vacation, my wife likes to take a break from dancing. Being good at several sports, I could be a good dancer...but simply don’t like it. For me, it is not a sport. If forced, I can manage a rather decent foxtrot.
I stay out of the business, because I know that I would be detrimental to customer acquisition and retention. It also prevents disagreements, which could easily spoil a good relationship. I do not have the personality or temperament to deal with people that I do not know and probably would not like. My wife is very good at this.
She also turns a potential negative into a positive and uses my lack of dance interest to her benefit. She talks about me in every beginner’s classes and uses anecdotes with regular customers, not unlike Phyllis Diller, Dame Edna, and Joan Rivers use of invisible and/or fictional spouses in their routines. Women laugh and men that have been dragged to the class relax, after learning that their behavior is normal and acceptable. And, I am pleased that I can make a contribution without having to dance...unlike the poor men in the classes.
Prior to writing novels, the author enjoyed a multifaceted career: from decorated combat aviator to advertising professional to global communications director of a major consumer brand. He has traveled the world and met sports, film and television stars, political leaders, and royalty. He graduated from Middlebury College, is married, lives in Germany, and has two grown children.