Church Dance Memories
Posted: Fri Jun 29, 2007 2:58 am
There were plenty of awful things about being a teenage Mormon girl, not the least of which were licked cupcake lessons, modest clothing fashion shows, craft making activities and cleaning the nursery (why didn't the boys ever do that?), but there were a few good things, too. For me, one of the best things about being a Mormon kid were the dances. They weren't always fun, necessarily, but they were always interesting. And if it appeared the dance wasn't going to be interesting, I tried to devise ways to make it that way.
My dances always started with me being picked up by the Stake President's son. I lived in a small country town and Blake* (name changed to protect the not-so-innocent) lived there, too. Blake and I were the only two Mormons teenagers. The Stake center was at least forty-five minutes away and my mom didn't want to drive me, so Blake would pick me up. He was two years older than me and I thought it was big stuff to be picked up by a boy who could drive. Well, after a few trips together, Blake imposed his own sort of fee for taking me - and it wasn't monetary. He pulled over on the way to the dance one day and just laid one on me. A big, sloppy French kiss, which initially grossed me out because he had spent a goodly amount of time earlier showing me how he could turn his tongue completely upside down inside his mouth. But I soon got over the gross-out factor and our pre-dance kissing became a regular activity, though we never dated or even danced with each other once we were inside the building. It was weird. But hey, he didn't ask for gas money!
At any rate, once the dance started, the same thing always happened. The girls went out and danced in a group in the middle of the floor and the boys stood lurking around the refreshment table, watching us. My momma taught me not to hang out in the bunch of girls too often, because it intimidated boys to ask girls to dance in front of a bunch of other people. She also taught me never to say no to a dance. It was ego crushing for boys to be turned down once they had gotten up the nerve to ask for a spin out on the dance floor. So, I listened to momma and she was right. I got asked to dance. A lot. I think it was because the guys figured out right away that I never said no. The nerds figured it out really fast. The most clever of the nerds, Dallas, devised a plan to use my good will to his advantage.
Dallas was a chubby boy who, like most of the boys, hung out around the refreshment table. But Dallas was different. He not only ate the cookies, he wore them. He had a perpetual dusting of cookie crumbs on his shirt and his mouth seemed permanently stained at the corners by red punch. And Dallas liked dancing with me. The minute I'd reapplied my lipstick in the bathroom and made it into the dance, Dallas was there, waiting for me. He'd make a beeline for me and ask me to dance immediately. I learned there was no escaping him. What he lacked in coolness he made up for with persistence.
Dallas would lead me onto the dance floor and proceed to pull me as close as possible. I distinctly remember him caressing my back with his plump, sometimes sticky hand, and breathing his cookie breath in my face. His polyester pants made a swishing sound when his thighs rubbed together. The minute our dance was over is when the real fun began. Playing keep-away from him was wildly entertaining. If I wasn't on my toes, I'd end up dancing all night with Dallas, so I used every girl trick imaginable to get the other boys to dance with me so I didn't have to accept another dance proposal from Dallas. And heaven forbid I ask a boy to dance! Nuh-uh. That was a big no-no. So it was like a game for me, getting the boys to dance. And I loved it.
Our DJ was the Young Men's president of my home ward. He owned a music recording studio and was very open to the kind of music he'd play. We'd beg him to play "Mony Mony" and he always did, even though we chanted the naughty words when we weren't supposed to. I didn't do it, but I got a thrill that the other kids did.
The Stake dance fun was almost ruined by Bishop Slip Nazi. He was the Bishop to whom I eventually confessed the pre-dance French kissing. He determined the reason I was such a harlot was because I didn't wear a slip under my jean skirt, so he denied me a recommend to do baptisms for the dead and implemented the Slip Policy. The Slip Policy stated that all the girls had to wear slips under all their dresses and skirts, whether they were see-through or not. Extra slips were kept in the closet in case someone forgot theirs.
We were asked at every dance if we had slips and if we didn't, we either put one from the closet on or went home. Our clothes were inspected closely to see if they met dance standards. Even tight skirts were forbidden and once I had to change mine. I was given a big, ugly, flowery granny skirt to wear. I was understandably mortified but there was no way Blake was taking me home early, so I had to deal with it.
Those are just a few of my church dance memories. There are lots more where those came from. We had Gold and Green balls, New Year's Eve dances (where we were allowed a respectable peck on the lips at midnight, provided we had a willing partner), and the funnest of all, Youth Conference Dances. I think I'm showing my age with the Gold and Green ball reference, lol!
Does anyone else have church dance memories they'd be willing to share? I'd love to read them.
Dallas, are you posting on this board? Just wondering...
KA
My dances always started with me being picked up by the Stake President's son. I lived in a small country town and Blake* (name changed to protect the not-so-innocent) lived there, too. Blake and I were the only two Mormons teenagers. The Stake center was at least forty-five minutes away and my mom didn't want to drive me, so Blake would pick me up. He was two years older than me and I thought it was big stuff to be picked up by a boy who could drive. Well, after a few trips together, Blake imposed his own sort of fee for taking me - and it wasn't monetary. He pulled over on the way to the dance one day and just laid one on me. A big, sloppy French kiss, which initially grossed me out because he had spent a goodly amount of time earlier showing me how he could turn his tongue completely upside down inside his mouth. But I soon got over the gross-out factor and our pre-dance kissing became a regular activity, though we never dated or even danced with each other once we were inside the building. It was weird. But hey, he didn't ask for gas money!
At any rate, once the dance started, the same thing always happened. The girls went out and danced in a group in the middle of the floor and the boys stood lurking around the refreshment table, watching us. My momma taught me not to hang out in the bunch of girls too often, because it intimidated boys to ask girls to dance in front of a bunch of other people. She also taught me never to say no to a dance. It was ego crushing for boys to be turned down once they had gotten up the nerve to ask for a spin out on the dance floor. So, I listened to momma and she was right. I got asked to dance. A lot. I think it was because the guys figured out right away that I never said no. The nerds figured it out really fast. The most clever of the nerds, Dallas, devised a plan to use my good will to his advantage.
Dallas was a chubby boy who, like most of the boys, hung out around the refreshment table. But Dallas was different. He not only ate the cookies, he wore them. He had a perpetual dusting of cookie crumbs on his shirt and his mouth seemed permanently stained at the corners by red punch. And Dallas liked dancing with me. The minute I'd reapplied my lipstick in the bathroom and made it into the dance, Dallas was there, waiting for me. He'd make a beeline for me and ask me to dance immediately. I learned there was no escaping him. What he lacked in coolness he made up for with persistence.
Dallas would lead me onto the dance floor and proceed to pull me as close as possible. I distinctly remember him caressing my back with his plump, sometimes sticky hand, and breathing his cookie breath in my face. His polyester pants made a swishing sound when his thighs rubbed together. The minute our dance was over is when the real fun began. Playing keep-away from him was wildly entertaining. If I wasn't on my toes, I'd end up dancing all night with Dallas, so I used every girl trick imaginable to get the other boys to dance with me so I didn't have to accept another dance proposal from Dallas. And heaven forbid I ask a boy to dance! Nuh-uh. That was a big no-no. So it was like a game for me, getting the boys to dance. And I loved it.
Our DJ was the Young Men's president of my home ward. He owned a music recording studio and was very open to the kind of music he'd play. We'd beg him to play "Mony Mony" and he always did, even though we chanted the naughty words when we weren't supposed to. I didn't do it, but I got a thrill that the other kids did.
The Stake dance fun was almost ruined by Bishop Slip Nazi. He was the Bishop to whom I eventually confessed the pre-dance French kissing. He determined the reason I was such a harlot was because I didn't wear a slip under my jean skirt, so he denied me a recommend to do baptisms for the dead and implemented the Slip Policy. The Slip Policy stated that all the girls had to wear slips under all their dresses and skirts, whether they were see-through or not. Extra slips were kept in the closet in case someone forgot theirs.
We were asked at every dance if we had slips and if we didn't, we either put one from the closet on or went home. Our clothes were inspected closely to see if they met dance standards. Even tight skirts were forbidden and once I had to change mine. I was given a big, ugly, flowery granny skirt to wear. I was understandably mortified but there was no way Blake was taking me home early, so I had to deal with it.
Those are just a few of my church dance memories. There are lots more where those came from. We had Gold and Green balls, New Year's Eve dances (where we were allowed a respectable peck on the lips at midnight, provided we had a willing partner), and the funnest of all, Youth Conference Dances. I think I'm showing my age with the Gold and Green ball reference, lol!
Does anyone else have church dance memories they'd be willing to share? I'd love to read them.
Dallas, are you posting on this board? Just wondering...
KA