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I Took a Pole Dancing Lesson & It Transformed My Sexuality in 10 Minutes
I was 52, and I yearned to get out of my comfort zone, my self-imposed straitjacket.
You walk in the glass door of Body & Pole on West 27th Street in New York and a friendly receptionist enters your name in a computer. Beyond the desk, a wide, glassed-in staircase ascends to the second floor, and more stairs run down to the basement. When I arrive, it’s between classes and people are rushing up and down the stairs in preparation for the next hour. Some sit on benches and seats, chatting or removing their shoes. Dance music plays in the background, not too loud.
The receptionist tells me to go upstairs to room E for my Introduction to Pole class. They say I can use the changing room that I’ll see to the right when I get to the top of the stairs. They ask if it’s my first class, and I say yeah, with a flimsy façade of composure. They grin and wish me a great class.
Somehow, already, this isn’t what I expected.
I came to New York for two weeks in April specifically to take pole dancing lessons. It’s part of a project where I’m taking dance lessons in different places around the world — cities associated with each specific dance. I call it the Year of Dancing, and I started out hoping it would change my life. It already has, in incredible ways.
