In a Saturday Night Stroll on U St. not atypical of others I’ve taken in the past year, I found myself on the porch of the fabulous Marvin. With the soul-food/Belgian kitchen (that may very well rip Roscoe’s) long closed, Belgian beers are the clever remnant of this strange Northern European culture for the night crowd. The outdoor porch area’s bar is much better suited to dealing these beers than it’s smaller indoor counterpart, which I suppose is the main reason I immediately migrated onto the porch after entry.
In a moment of pause and epiphany, it came to me how the female ratio was lower on said porch than I had anticipated. My partner in crime suggested a relocation indoors, where female ratios were much more favorable. After initially wondering why these young women would prefer to be in a louder and darker indoor arena over a more open area outside, I realized this was due to a fundamental difference between the sexes I had observed many times in many different places.
Of course, a pack of women on what could easily pass for a dance floor will not spontaneously dance when music is put into the air. If you ask them why they are not dancing in spite of their clear desires, they will reply simply: ‘because no one else is dancing.’ The inertia of women is truly something to behold. Inspired by pictures on the wall of the great entertainers from yesteryear and perhaps by the spirit of the Prince of Motown himself, I found the closest married woman I could find (married women have an strange relationship with dancing I can’t quite put my finger on) to put the dance party in motion. With the Dancing Sickness spreading through the room like a new strain of syphilis, the hands of Chaos were starting to guide the young women through the night.
It felt like the room was opened as the weight of non-dancing was lifted off of everyone’s shoulders. Of course, it also could have all been a figment of my imagination. Clearly.