Slow Dancing

I was thinking today about slow dancing. Is there nothing better in the world than slow dancing? It's the best and most innocent way to get close to someone you care about, in public, and you're brought there solely by the means of sweet music.

The slow dances of junior high were stiff and awkward, yet exhilarating. (I have stories. Ohmagoodness, do I have stories.) And remember in high school when you'd look forward to the school dance for a whole week, because you knew you'd be dancing with your latest crush? Then there's college. I don't know if other colleges have dances, but mine did. Like every weekend. They got old after a while. They became so mainstream that we'd go to the dance with a date and end up dancing with some other random person. (Alcohol had something to do with that, I think.)

But after college, the slow-dancing possibilities kind of come to an end. With the exception of the occasional wedding, there just aren't a lot of opportunities to slow dance in a public setting. I honestly can't remember the last time I did. That makes me sad.

On the other hand, now that slow dancing is a rarity, it has this incredibly romantic stigma. Kind of like going on a tropical vacation. I hardly ever get to do that, but I will never stop wanting to, and when I do I'm going to enjoy every minute of it.

R&B artist John Legend—whose voice could convince me to do something illegal—has a song called "Slow Dance." It's one of those pure, old-school tunes that brings you right back to the dimly lit, streamer-decorated high school cafeteria.

Here's the video. You must watch it because it will make all of the problems in your life fade away, I swear. (Ladies, pretend he's singing to you. That's what I do. Then I melt into a pool of butter.)