“I shagged six guys last night…”
“Do you want to shag?”
The first time a guy asked me this, I couldn’t help but burst out in a fit of girlish, giggling laughter.
“Did he just ask me what I thought he did?” was my first confused question. Apparently yes he did, but not in quite the same way as I thought. Instead of asking me up to his bedroom to “get it on,” he was actually asking me to dance. It turns out the word SHAGGING has very different meanings in the Deep South than back at home in old England.
Oxford English Dictionary Definition: “A dance popular esp. in the U.S. in the 1930s and 1940s, and characterised by vigorous hopping from one foot to the other.” (Rather than… well you know… sex!)
Readers, you should know that when it comes to dancing, I am no pirouetting guru. I in fact consider myself to have the terrible “two left feet” syndrome, unless of course, after a bottle of wine and Beyoncé is playing, and then I am fearless! I have not swing danced with any ostentatious named jiving expert before. I have never even line danced. In fact, I have never really danced at all! Unless you count ballet lessons ‘till around the age of 5, but all I can remember from those was some rule about good toes and naughty toes and pink leotards.
Nevertheless, I wasn’t going to miss out on an opportunity to learn how to shag, so I went out, eyes as wide as a deer in headlights, to a bar called Jillian’s, where they hold weekly shag nights. My face had fear written all over it. The bar was rammed with students paired boy- girl shagging their way to the music. I suddenly felt very unprepared; these kids had been born and bred shagging all their lives, as the Carolina Shag is actually the State dance. I knew I was going to be hopeless, but I was going to enjoy being hopeless all the same! Not only did I have the pressure of learning this partner, holding sweaty hands jiggle, I also had to master the synchronized dances that everyone breaks out into as if it were a pre-planned flash mob.
Americans love a good line dance as much as they appear to love twerking (see previous post). At one point, I found myself right in the middle of a complicated line dance with no idea whether I was meant to be stepping to the right, wiggling my butt or clapping my hands, but God it was fun, or rather funny, at least for the people watching me thinking, “She has no clue!” My favorites so far include “The Wobble” and “The Cupid Shuffle,” not to sound big headed or anything but I believe I’ve got the latter dance down to a tee (Although it probably was the easiest one…).
It turns out that an evening of Southern gents patiently showing me the ropes was tremendous amounts of fun, better yet: Zero alcohol was consumed so there was no false confidence needed. However, I’m still only learning so it’s going to take a while for me to become an expert shagger, perhaps I should do some practice in the bedroom…