If you put a gun to my head and told me I’d die if I didn’t dance for you, what do you think would happen?

Every fiber of my being wholeheartedly believes you would end your own suffering after witnessing the atrocity i bestow upon you.

I’m what racist folk call a “chicken chomper” and yet i missed out on the most important stereotypical skill we have: I cannot dance.

For this reason I’m scared of my wedding day. I’ll be stared at and judged for ruining our first dance because I don’t have the moves like jagger, just ones that make you dive on a dagger.

In school dances I got so many pity dances and it hurt my soul to really try and see every girl’s disappointment when i couldn’t keep up.

In college it got better because I became the guy that drinks and hold the girls’ bags while they go crazy.

But now, back to normal life where my gf wants to dance with me? I’m just a party pooper yet again.

Idk if I’ll survive the wedding.