Today, for class, we had one hour of a Latin Dance class. Our bronze Tico dance teacher, dressed in a tight black T-shirt, tells us we will practice merengue, salsa, and regaeton. Our class consists of 17 girls, and Gus (Harvard Jew) and me. Before class, I was nervous about the division of chicos and chicas for this class, but as we started warming up, doing all our moves together, everyone shaking their shoulders and moving their arms and hips, my worries diminished. Next, however, our teacher says "okay, chicos aqui" and "chicas alla." "Each of us gets six women," he says to me and Gus, asserting his masculine sex drive. "Chiste," he was joking. "Seis chicas seran chicos," (Six girls will be boys). Of course, it is necessary to divide us first into chicos and chicas at the risk of two of us chicos being partners for that would threaten masculine desire, and clearly it is also necessary to tell the girls that they are boys because they cannot really be boys, and of course, guys only like girls and girls only like boys.
Salsa and merengue end up being fun and silly besides our teacher singleing out Courtney, a blonde, to dance with him, pulling her up too close and calling her "mi chica." He says, "chiki, chiki, chiki, chiki" to the rhythm. "El codigo (Elbow) sexy arms!" he instructs us. We stick our elbows out more to show off our sexy arm muscles.
Regaeton is next. This time he separates us again into chicos and chicas, but this time no girl will be a boy. Girls cannot hump the floor, obviously, as we will soon learn. Our teacher first teaches the chicas their part as Gus and I watch awkwardly and laugh nervously. Their moves include shaking their boobs, strutting adelante and atras, twirling, and striking a pose, "don't forget the arms," he scolds, and runs his hand down his face, his chest, his stomach, motioning toward his groin area. Clearly, the chicas must tempt the men by exhibiting their luscious bodies.
Now, it is our turn. Gus expresses brotherhood and shows his true macho side by giving me a slap on the back and saying "Aright, we got this." The music "Rompe" begins with our first move: a simultaneous pelvis thrust and downward elbow jab. We repeat this four times, alternating sides, next, leaning back so that one of our hands is on the floor. We are ready for break-dancing position. Then, we turn over into push-up position, and widen our stance so that we can gyrate our hips emphatically, humping the foor, first in small motions, and then bigger, pumping our whole body down and up, down and up, in case it wasn't clear by our head nods that we are insertive sex machines. Taquila shouting "Yeah Spencer," affirming our masculine prowess. I glance over and see Gus, old-fashioned white new balances, snugly fit jeans revealing his high socks, moving his ass up and down as if he is trying really hard to do a push-up. I see our teacher, furrowed brow, biting his lip. It looks as though his whole body is about to convulse. The chicas are laughing.
This was just practice. Now we had to do the "real thing" by putting them together. "Listos?" our teacher asks. He instructs Gus and I to go to the stair, not satisfied, he comes over to demonstrate by putting one foot up on the step, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. He gives a head nod to the chicas, telling me and Gus "como si estas en la esquina" (as if you are on the corner). The "real thing" clearly involves the guys checking the girls out from "the street corner," objectifying their hot bodies, as they shake their boobs and touch themselves, signaling the desire for male attention. Gus attempts to whistle so as to complete our objectifying privileged roles of asserting the male gaze. As they finish, our teacher gives first Gus, and then me a high five, (we are about to score some hot ass) and then he swaggers out to the dance floor, me and Gus following, although our swagger is not quite as manly. We take our fuerte male stances and begin our pelvis thrusting routine.
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