Have you ever noticed that once you surpass the age of 35, there’s this unspoken rule that you’re no longer allowed to dance the way you used to in your teens and twenties? It’s as if somewhere along the way, society decided that grown-ups should trade in their carefree moves for small, polite sways by the bar. I don’t know where this invisible line comes from — maybe it’s the pressure of what adulthood is supposed to look like.

Maybe it’s the awkward glances from younger generations that make us suddenly self-conscious about our once perfectly curated dance moves. Or maybe it’s our children, rolling their eyes at weddings, begging us to stop before they wither away in embarrassment.

Whatever the reason, somewhere in the aging process, one of our greatest pastimes turned into something we almost feel guilty for wanting. Dancing — pure, unfiltered, just-letting-loose dancing — became a forbidden desire.

I’ll never forget one of my friend’s weddings, sitting at the “friends table.”

We were all in our mid-30s, sipping cocktails, catching up. At that point in life, each of us was in a different stage — raising kids, climbing corporate ladders or managing the chaos of both. Except for one guest. I can’t remember his name, but I knew he had flown in from Los Angeles. The groom had once managed his band before selling them off to a record label. He sat next to me, and I’ll be honest — he looked exactly like Edward from “Twilight.”

As we chatted, a group of women came up asking for a picture with him. He gave me this look that said, “See? No matter where I go, my fans always find me.” I just smiled, because I knew the truth — they weren’t there for his music. They thought Robert Pattinson had just walked into the wedding. My hunch was confirmed when one of the women said, “See? I told you people would think Robert Pattinson was here!” His face fell instantly, from smug confidence to complete deflation.

Later in the night, when the conversation turned to the dance floor, one of my girlfriends said, “I can’t wait for the music to start so we can finally dance!” That’s when “Edward” chimed in with a line that still makes me shake my head: “Dancing is just women’s way of attracting men.”

Well, you can imagine what happened next. The sweet group of women at the table transformed from house cats to full-on lionesses. In an instant, they made known the carefree joy of dancing wasn’t about flirting — it was about freedom, connection and reclaiming something that had been written off as silly or shallow. Needless to say, Edward kept a safe distance from the dance floor that evening.

But maybe that’s part of it, though. Maybe somewhere in our adulting years, we absorbed messages — spoken or not — that dancing sends the wrong signal. That if you really let go, people might get the wrong idea. And so, little by little, we sit back instead of stepping out.

But here I am at 48, and I’ll tell you the truth. I still want to dance. No, I can’t “drop it like it’s hot” the way I once did. And yes, the stamina isn’t what it used to be. But the rush of stepping into rhythm, twirling just for the fun of it, and singing the wrong lyrics at the top of my lungs alongside a crowd — that feeling hasn’t changed. It’s still exhilarating just thinking about it.

Maybe what we need isn’t permission, but a safe haven. A place where grown-ups get to dance without judgment, without awkward glances, without the idea that it has to mean anything more than joy. Because sometimes, joy is the only reason we need.

So if you see me twirling at the next wedding, or busting out a questionable move at a concert, don’t give me that side-eye. Join me. Let’s remember what it feels like to move like nobody’s watching — even if our kids are begging us to stop.

Mother, author, entrepreneur and founder of Dandelion-Inc, Lisa Resnick wants to hear your story. Share memories with her by emailing lisa@dandelion-inc.com.