Can You Be A Heterosexual Male and Take Zumba Classes?

After much thought, I’ve come up with the same answer to the question of, “can you be a heterosexual male and be married?” Maybe.
What launched me into this line of philosophical inquiry, you ask? Dale’s choreography to this song. Take a minute to get in the “mood” before I describe the “fitness” routine for you.

Now, imagine “castanet” hands high above your hands, walk forward, right foot, left foot, in time with the music, swish your hips right left, four steps then, at the end thrust your hips fast to the right like you’re Miss America in the swimsuit competition (or knocking your best friend off the end of the cafeteria table in the fifth grade). Oh HELL NO, I’m not doing that. not ever. You gotta draw a line somewhere.
Hey, don’t get me wrong. I like pink shirts, manicures and pedicures, a fine Beaujolais and a great art gallery as much as the next metro sexual. I’ve had gay friends since college, and I hope they can get married in all 50 states so they can be as miserable as the rest of us, BUT, – you gotta draw a line somewhere.
Comedians have been “joking” about sexless marriages since vaudeville. Or Pompeii, depending on how you interpret their brothel art. Or joking about marriages, period. Its all about having balls. Or none at all. It’s all about drawing a line somewhere. That’s why some guys will cook, or clean, or shop, or whatever, but when it comes to laundry, for example, they put the whites with the colored clothes, turn the hot water heater up to 240, add some bleach, lye and sulfuric acid to the tide, get them out of the washer, put them in the dryer on extra hot, dry them through 4 cycles and and wait for their honey to take out her all white disintegrated Barbie sized clothes: then say, “OMG, I can’t imagine what happened to those clothes!” And look very penitent when told, “you’re not EVER allowed to wash clothes again”. GRIN.
The amount of new songs and new routines each class is never ending. I feel like I’ve been sentenced to Dante’s first circle of hell, Limbo. (who ever liked dancing THAT at parties in the 60’s either), of endless line dancing and cheerleader routines. Reminded me today of when my daughter joined Girl Scouts. So I had to join Girl Scouts. THAT was interesting. Went to my first meeting and felt like they were looking at me like Anthony Hopkins, in the Silence of the Lambs. At the END of the movie. This is more than convention- line dancing Karma. I must have bludgeoned a court jester in 1502. Robbed and Killed a minstrel in 1287. And I look around the room, and everyone else is doing it, like they were driving a car. Even Sheninqua, who’s on class 11, is sliding comfortably in. Although, I did point out to her that the latest ‘new’ song, which has every arm flap known to man, made me think of the old shake weight commercial. (P.S. I’m saving this rant for another blog, but the Lantino mix of Ice ice Baby has GOT TO GO. Why not try Emimem’s, “Shake that ass for me”. Ok, maybe not a good substitute, bit ICE ICE BABY has got to go. WOW
But then, like a good relationship, it’s making me healthier and faster. Stronger. Slimmer. I sleep better. It nags me silently in my head when I read the menu or go to the grocery store And, it’s very accepting that I ‘m a happy/grumpy grouchy/joyful old pervert. So, I guess you CAN be heterosexual and be married. Or take Zumba classes. But you gotta know where to draw the line.
“Drawing lines since Etch-a-Sketch 1963”