The guys who lap the dancefloor in clubs are 21st Century heroes
They’re the closest we’ll ever get to the legends of classical literature
You’re on a night out with your mates. You’ve had a few drinks. You’re feeling good.
Some guy comes up to you and offers to buy you a drink – “No thanks, I’ve got one” you say, thinking “and you look like a punched lasagne”.
Your night goes on – what’s this? Lasagne-face is back? Maybe he didn’t realise he’s already offered you a drink? “No, thanks” you say again. This guy…what a card, eh.
But hang on, Lasagne-face is coming up to you an hour later and he’s brought Susan Boyle’s unattractive twin brother with him this time. No, he hasn’t got you confused with somebody else…he’s a dancefloor-lapper.
How are we meant to feel about the floor-lapper?
Like Mo Farah relentlessly circling an Olympic running track, the floor-lapper will go around that club making a move on everyone until they get their gal.
On the one hand, he sees his potential “prey” as interchangeable as if they were used socks – much the same as one another, each one something you can slip in and out of comfortably.
Yes, he may reek of desperation and, yes, perhaps he’s not the best looking guy in the club, but I think the floor-lapper is someone to admire.
The modern floor-lapper is an ideal. A fighter. A champion. He’s an Ancient Greek warrior in today’s world. Why, I hear you ask?
He’s fearless. The floor-lapper will approach anyone and everyone in the club, the smoking area, the bar, the kebab van outside the club, the mile radius of the club to get what he wants. Nothing holds him back.
The Greeks fought for empire and power…trying to get with a girl after the third rejection is probably tougher.
Plus, he has stamina. Warriors of old would stake out fortresses for years on end, bringing people to their knees. In an attempt to achieve the exact same result, the floor-lapper can dance awkwardly closely to you, your best mate, your best mate’s sister who’s visiting for the night, the friend from your course and your flatmate one after the other without missing a beat. Repeatedly.
What’s more, like a true artist, he pursues beauty. The philosophers Aristotle and Plato sought it, the artists Picasso and Renoir dreamed of it. Like them, the pursuit of beauty is what drives the floor-lapper. He will scour every inch of the club to find that virtue. He seeks perfection, the diamond in the rough…or whoever is going to throw him a pity pull, really.
Sadly, as with the Ancients, the floor-lapper’s time has passed. He still thinks he’ll go home happy if he can grind a girl into submission and doesn’t even realise there are different waves of feminism now. Such “rape culture” attitudes belong in the past and – like Aristotle – so does the floor-lapper.
To dancefloor-lappers everywhere, well done. I applaud your spirit. You remind us all of an age-old ideal. You soldier on and will not be stopped…but maybe it’s time you did?