The hunting

I went to a disc the other week, with some friends of mine. Finnish people love to dance, and the floor was pretty much crowded. I sat down with a friend, and we ladies were looking at the crowd dancing away to glory.

And then we saw them - or more specifically, him.

He was dancing as the music wanted him to dance. His moves were smooth and fluid, and he moved as if he is a fish in water. He was tall, well built, and he folded his long legs effortlessly so that he is in level with her.

She had taken time to dress up for him, in a subtle way. But she was not up to him, visibly hesitant to dance, to match his steps. She was slightly plump, reminded me of cinnamon rolls and a warm kitchen, while he was more like a rainstorm brewing in the mountains.

and then, there was her. The one who looked like a panther out for a kill, with a body, attitude and steps to match. She surveyed the dance floor, took one look at the couple, decided that the man was hers, and set on to stake her claim.

On that dance floor, it was so easy to flirt with another person even if you were dancing with your date.


Me & my friend sympathized with the girl, what chance did she have with this predator on the prowl?

She started dancing, slowly, sensuously - like a beautiful coral snake slowly slithering. Half the men in the dance floor ( the ones that could see her albeit peripherally) slowed down, were distracted, and some even stopped their dancing to stare at her.

Not him. He was focused on her, coaxing her, cajoling her, to loosen up, to forget making mistakes in her steps or stepping on his his feet. He was dancing, and he was dancing only for her.

Or so we thought. The predator moved slowly towards him, slithering up and slowly starting to wound herself around him. All this done beautifully, discreetly.

He, without a break in the rhythm, stepped around such that his girl was the one who was dancing against her. The put down, was blatant, and it hurt the predator. "WTF!!" she slowly mouthed to her minions who were sitting there, shocked that a common man had dared to turn her down.

The predator, was up for the challenge. She and her minions started dancing, and they somehow made a semi circle around the girl, who was oblivious to all this and was trying to get her steps right. They started crowding her as if she did not even exist, and a well timed push sent her reeling to edge of the dance floor, to the hard pews where we onlookers were watching in fascination.

We felt bad for her. The fact that she was a clumsy dancer at best was established beyond point with that push. When she was being pushed to anonymity, the predator was dancing in front of him, like a bright black flame of all thing luscious and forbidden. she had the best body, the best dress and the best face in that room. She could dance with him, dance like him.

He danced maybe half a step, and went to the pews with his girl, timing his step to her missteps such that it all looked like a wonderfully choreographed return to the seats than the mortified return it was supposed to be. Like she was a queen and he was her harem boy. He danced around her, and wrapped her up in a tight embrace at the end of it.

And he did this all, while he was looking into her eyes and setting steps to music.

And no, she did not know what happened. For her, it was nothing more than a night out dancing brought to end by a suddenly overcrowded dance floor.

My friends wanted me to give them an example of how Finns love, and here it is guys and gals. He did not make her realize what he was doing for her - not by word, or deed, or even a momentary glance at her adversary.


And that night, I believed again in the magic of love.