I'm not having a fit...

... I'm just trying to dance to drum & bass. That's the sad state of affairs I find myself in when it comes to 'moving my dancing feet'. Looking like I have epilepsy. That was almost the complete opposite of what I was going for.

But it does interest me immensely why women like men that can dance. I heard of the obvious, untrue cliche of rhythm on the dance floor means rhythm in the bedroom. Firstly, I don't have rhythm on the dance floor. I have had sex quite a few times (more than 10, less than a trillion) and not once have I had to use a metronome, or, dare I say it, had a fit half way through.

I also understand that dancing like Justin Timberlake suggests you have a certain cocky arrogance that can only lead to being good in bed. However, that cocky arrogance would also suggest that the same person is nailing anything that is attempting to 'bring sexy back'. In looking for a confident, rhythmic dancing queen, the lady will have in fact just become another cum-receptacle in the lotharo's already full calendar of easily fooled women.

I know the media hasn't helped by saying that people like Usher (I can't say or write his name without wondering why no one has run him over yet) are cool because they can move their feet. Personally, I think it's cooler to not wear a hat indoors and to write your own songs but hey, call me old fashioned.

All this means is that men are immediately judged on a barrel of female requirements just by the way they dance. If they can do the cha cha, does this mean he'll be able to provide for your offspring? If they embrace you in pasodoble would this suggest he isn't a carrier of sickle cell anaemia? None of it makes sense. For women it's easy. Wear next to nothing, don't be fat and dance like a whore. Job done. Men who want to sleep with whores will be attracted to you.

Personally, I prefer to look around a dance floor and see the girls that aren't taking it all so seriously, aren't rubbing themselves against speakers (unless ironically) and, are more often than not, taking the piss out of each other. This is the form of dance I much prefer. It isn't about peacocking, merely enjoying the music and having a laugh with friends. Perhaps having a dance off, or maybe moshing around a handbag. These are the type of girls I have time for. And I'd hope that they'd take someone doing the sprinkler, dressed as Jimmy Saville, over someone looking like, dancing like, or even just being, Usher.

So, thank you plastic, vacant and altogether too judgemental girl on the dance floor last week. I wasn't having a fit. I was dancing to drum & bass. This is how I do it. And the next time you are in Primark, face contorted as you try to work out the total cost of one £1 pair of shoes and one £1 bra and knickers set, I will be sure to point out that you look like seven shades of flowery twat.