And you know it has its risks, you know some people even end up in the hospital after a wild one, others even end up knocked up, or without their virginity. But you also know everyone's doing it and so you think you will end up doing it one of these days, you just hope with all your heart there will be no pictures or videos of you after that; because that's the worst possible consequence, you think.

So once you get the right place, the right time and the right people to do it with, you decide to go for it. At first you're shy, you get up in the stage and play with the poll, make a few turns and walk around. But then that song that's been in your head all week starts playing, the lights are on you and you know everyone looking only at you. So you dance, you dance like there is no tomorrow, you shake all that can move, and vibrate with every high tune, and you have the best time of your life and dance like a beautiful dance whore. Because up there you are it, you take that poll and make it yours, that song will never taste the same for whomever sees you dance, and your friends are all with you doing it too.

In the stage nobody can do you no harm, you forget any inhibitions and free yourself from whatever might have locked you. If it is the first time you do it, it is that moment when you remember what people say about poll dancers, how it almost never ends well, and you disagree, you know there are few things better in life. If you are already an avid dancer, then you surely no longer think of what they say, you know how it ends and you love it, every single part of it (well... maybe not the mourning after).

Then you're off the stage, and the ground moves because of all the dancing, and you're dizzy and talk a lot. For some that is the time when they lock themselves in a restroom and throw away all their sins and lamentations about the poll dance. Some others just go and sleep soundly in the first bed they can find. But all reactions lead to the same unavoidable future, the morning after.

It is in the mourning when they warned you it would all go bad. And for once you recognize their wise words. Your feet are sore, you're trough can't take anything else, the ground can't stop moving, and most painful, there are drills taking your brains out. And it is not until you are lying next to the electrolyte wishing every sound and light was gone, and that you can't feel yourself when you promise for everything that is good that you will never, ever in the rest of your life will poll dance again.

And you swear it.

And you convince yourself.

Until next weekend comes and the stage claims for you.

You'll have time to swear later...



[here at bffs we don't support vices, but analogies instead]