warning! tmi!

Before you even start, know that this is from my point of view. This is not the case for every girl and it may indeed be more than you really want to know. Clear? Good.

Belly dancing just turned sexy. Yeah, yeah, I know. Alert the presses, slowpoke finally got on the bus. But wait. There is a reason for my recent discovery. Just hear me out.

I know what it means to dance sexy. In my twenties, every single night of the week ended with me dancing at the OZ or Pop's on the east side. Go ahead, gasp and get over it.

After work, at whatever hour, I'd put on some slinky clothes and hit the closest club. I'd dance till they turned out the lights and then I'd head for the east side and dance until seven in the morning. And yes, sometimes, I'd even dance in the cage at the OZ, if I was feeling particularly sexy, sweaty, and sassy. Some of you remember that, I know.

Anyway, the point was… dancing sexy. Out on the dance floor it was easy to see the audience was loaded with a variety of the men folk. It didn't matter to me if I was seeing someone or not. It didn't matter if I caught one of those fish or not. The point was that I was dancing and the fact that the guys were enjoying it, which you know they were, was just like whipped cream and a cherry on your sundae—just a little extra sugar.

But that's what makes a sundae a sundae, now isn't it? Otherwise you might as well hit the floor with your aerobics routine. It's all about peering out of the corner of your eye and spying some sharp looking man appreciating your moves. Hopefully, he's still sober enough to distinguish the boys from the girls, but I think we know what I'm talking about.

So, what exactly has this got to do with belly dancing? Nothing and quite a bit. I don't dance for men. I dance for myself. I love it and it makes me happy. For six years, that's all that I've needed. And I never knew anything different.

I've been in two relationships while I've been dancing. The first was quite cold fish about it. He was happy I was doing what I loved, thought I looked good, and was happy to support me. Did he ever tell me I looked sexy or ask me to dance for him? Nope. Not a mention.

The second relationship was strung too tight. I was doing something that made me happy, but he strongly disagreed with the possibility that I would dance in public and would have preferred I dress in a guinea sack to even a beledi dress. That was particularly hard because it felt like I was sneaking away to commit the evil deed.

So, I've been dancing for a while sans men and happy to go forth and shimmy. I've declared myself the giddy dancer and laughed uncontrollably when I was called on to dance sultry, or mysterious, or with nothing more than a straight face. It just isn't about dancing sexy, like when I was at the clubs.

Sometimes, when I'm trying to get a particularly slinky move, one of the other girls will say, "just imagine that you're dancing for your boyfriend." A statement that immediately causes me to burst into laughter. With my history? Are you for real?

BUT, I've met someone that has shifted my perspective. I don't know that he'll like that I'm dancing, that he will even like my dancing. This is so fresh, so new… there is no telling. However, there has been a shift in the force, Luke.

Tonight, I was working on a move and it just didn't have that umph I was looking for. Then, out of nowhere came the thought. "what if I were going to do this for (insert name)." And wham! I don't think I ever saw my body move that way intentionally.

Now, I've gone in to the studio, looked at myself in the mirror and thought, "Damn girl, that is one fine undulation you got there." But, this? This was completely different. This was taking it over the top and making it gooooood.

Let's be clear... I am stil not belly dancing for a man. So don't go wagging your finger at me. Because if you know me, you know that one of my primary points about the dance is that it's for the women. Men are an afterthought. Sorry guys.

But, maybe there is something to thinking about dancing for a man. Maybe now, I might be able to actually pull of thirty seconds of sultry before I burst into giggles. Who knows about tomorrow? But I do know that the next time I want to pull off that move, I'm not going to blow it off. I'm going to remember tonight and I'm going to remember that feeling. And I'm going to dance sexy.