I Want You to Reach Out
Every weekend I listen to the worst music ever in a zumba class on the Upper West Side. The first time I went, it was a gay latino instructor and he was a few minutes late. He was so hot, I couldn’t stop imagining how much sex he has all the time. He was probably having sex before this, that’s why he was late, is what I thought.
Every woman in the class loved him, probably because he was so gay. Older women like it when gay guys are that stereotypical sort of gay - the non threatening and twinkish gay. This instructor knew how to play it up, so he had these geriatric women eating out of the palm of his hand every session. Due to this, the class was always full - to the point I became very anxious about my personal space. I usually made it a priority to pick my position in the dance studio carefully, but that means jackshit if people show up late. Societal standards encourage you to make room even though someone else is fucking late; I don’t believe people should be rewarded for bad behavior, but if I say more on the subject the Curb Your Enthusiasm theme will start playing in my head and I’ll realize I myself am some sort of stupid stereotype.
I will tell you now that I’m really bad at dancing. I have no rhythm and my body is too rigid to be anything other than a little weird to look at. For 2 years, I rented out a bar to celebrate my birthday party just because I wanted to dance to music I actually like. Both years I spent hours curating a playlist that would inevitably go unappreciated. Drunk people love requesting songs when they find out you have the aux. One of the most fun nights I’ve had in New York was when I found myself in a really cringe finance bro club, because they were just playing nostalgic stuff like Party in the USA by Miley Cyrus. I hate going to places with DJ sets because they’re usually, like, innovative or something. It’s like what Charli said: when I go to the club I wanna hear those club classics, club classics, club, club classics.
I used to do zumba at a YMCA next to my school growing up. One time I went with my mom, who is also bad at dancing, and she got incredibly red. She made one of her classic depressing jokes about how she could have a heart attack doing this. After hearing that, I was like, oh shit, she actually could. So, I didn’t like zumba anymore because it became very stressful. I just kept imagining my mom dying in the class and how people would react.
I changed days for my Upper West Side zumba class, and now I have this latina instructor named Tati. After every song she goes, “ay ya ya!” to remind you she’s latina.
Now I am in the class every weekend and instead of trying to learn the moves, I wonder what crazy stuff Tati has seen in her class. She definitely sees me being very bad at the back with a sad look on my face. This class is mostly old people; I wonder if she knows CPR. Today before class, I opened up my bag to realize I brought two different shoes. I would totally wear them, but one shoe was Emma's and she is like a size 3. As usual, I can’t concentrate on learning or dancing correctly, but now it’s because I think everybody is looking at me in my socks. I am scared for most of the class that Tati is going to end a song and say, “Ay yay yay ya! As a reminder: please wear shoes to my class” and then I'll be even more embarrassed.
There’s a middle aged guy in this class who I think is straight, but loves to act like he is just one of the ladies. Tati has this move she does where you can have a semi-partnered moment with someone else, if you feel like it. I, of course, never feel like it. But this guy - he loves to run around the room and partner up with as many women as he can for the duration of this dance move. He seriously loves doing it and he especially loves partnering with Tati.
The first time this guy targeted me was when I was very far back in the studio, as I like to be. He kept turning around, wildly motioning for me to come up front! I moved like two steps forward and tried to ignore him. For the record, I don’t think he’s a pervert. I actually somehow don’t even dislike him. He has custom Zumba shoes, so I think he’s just a really excitable guy.
There’s this one song in zumba that makes me feel like I’m a happy Hannah Horvath or an inspired Carrie Bradshaw. It’s called Came Here for Love by Ella Eyre. Here are the lyrics:
I'm no longer brokenhearted
So glad I came here tonight
And I see you got what I wanted
Baby, you got what I like
I can see that you watching me
Come over, talk to me
Need you to give me a sign
You got that something sweet
That don't come easily
It's what I need tonight
I came here for love
For someone to hold me down
I won't give it up, no
I want you to reach out
I came here for love
I came here for love
I came here for love
I want you to reach out
I'm so ready to get on it
You follow me, you'll be fine
And I'm in too deep
Have I fallen, without anyone inside
I can see that you watching me
Come over, talk to me
Need you to give me a sign
You got that something sweet
That don't come easily
It's what I need tonight
I came here for love
For someone to hold me down
I won't give it up, no
I want you to reach out
I came here for love
I came here for love
I want you to reach out
This is what we came here for
We came here for love
I won't give, I won't give it up
This is what we came here for
We came here for love
I know this, I know it's enough
This is what we came here for
We came here for love
I won't give, I won't give it up
This is what we came here for
We came here for love
I want you to reach out
Against all odds, I think this song is deeply beautiful. When it plays, I feel bouncy and excited, but when I read those words, I find myself in tears. I think all we could ever hope for is someone who will reach out, touch us when we least expect it. And, yeah, I did come here for love. I go everywhere for love. Sometimes I feel like the love I so desperately want is written all over my face, my rhythmless body. I dance and I want to be seen. I perform and I want you to watch. I have the habit of needing to make you laugh - which I understand can be unbearable, but it’s the only way I know how to reach out.
After writing all this, I decided to listen to Came Here for Love on my commute home. Suddenly I am sobbing in the street; I am inconsolable. I can’t seem to stop how much I feel. It’s a flood of emotion pouring out of me as I hear these words that I know to be simple, but move me through an entire city. I think of all my friends, anyone who has ever loved me. I imagine them dancing with me and I imagine a future where I’m not so afraid of stuff like this.
How much love can one room hold? I would say that a zumba classroom holds an infinite amount of love and of hope.