After Miley Cyrus’ raunchy performance at the VMAs last month, I think it’s fair to say that everyone on the planet with access to the internet now knows what the word ‘twerk’ means. But before arriving in the States I had never actually heard the word used before. Call me old fashioned, but when I was confronted with some guy at a house party asking me to twerk, I just looked at him with utter bemusement. I had no idea what he was talking about. To those readers who are still a little confused,
I am talking about the dance move that seems most popular here: dry-humping.
I’m not going to lie, I was a little outraged to find that at a house party, where all the lights are on and people are just having casual conversations sitting on sofas that apparently it’s ‘normal’ for girls to grind on guys in the middle of the sitting room. This was another “I have to close my mouth to stop catching flies and gaping in shock” moment.
It is fair to say that the nightlife and parties here are very different than back home. I can’t imagine walking into The University of Kent’s Student Union club Venue to find only couples on the dance floor getting it on. When I go out with my girlfriends at home, we dance in groups, handbag in the middle of the circle style, free styling and singing at the top of our voices. There is never a need to have a guy permanently stuck to our hips to have fun. So, I guess we now all have Miley to thank for introducing the world to the ‘twerking’ dance craze.
Even the clubs are different here, if you can call them that! Downtown is filled with small bars, where you can easily hop from one to the next. There’s no Oceana or Vodka Revolution here! Perhaps it’s because I’m not in a big city like L.A. or Chicago, but in Five Points going out has a whole different meaning. Sure, there’s the standard drunk characters you meet in every bar; the fresher who’s had too much to drink and throwing up in the toilet, the sleazy guy in the corner trying to look you up and down, the cute one that will never come over and introduce himself, the pushy girl who elbows her way in front of you to get to the bar and the emotional one sitting in the corner crying over her ex. But with the drinking age limit being 21 instead of 18, it’s as if the girls here have never seen boys before and therefore tend to go crazy Miley-style when they’re finally allowed out.