Monday, October 22, 2012

Dance Class

dance class, man finds a new dance partner. The time that I spent with Lynn, the girl I had met at the gym after my divorce, was rather blissful in many ways. Not only was she fun to be around and a great conversationalist, but she loved to try new things. This I consider a very positive attribute in a woman. Not just new restaurants and the like, but actually learning new things. Expanding our horizons, so to speak. One of the things we did together as a couple was to take ballroom dance lessons. Prior to this time, my idea of dance was something you did at weddings after a few drinks. I am admittedly not much of a dancer. I have to say I admire those dancers you see on TV. I often envied their grace and athleticism. I sometimes imagined myself at some event, tossing my date in the air in the middle of the dance floor while everyone present looked on in wonder. Hopefully, I would be able to catch her on the way down. Those occasional thoughts of wowing the audience on the dance floor at some relatives wedding were never enough to get me to take dance lessons. My watching competitive ballroom dancing on the television and imagining myself and a date in the spotlight seemed like something that had little or no chance of ever really happening. It ranked right up there with ultimate fighting. I sometimes imagined myself in the ring while watching the UFC, but I knew better than to ever let that happen. Until I met Lynn, I felt the same way about ballroom dancing. Lynn somehow had remarkably persuasive powers over me. Probably something to do with the fact that she was a hot looking, athletic woman who was good in bed. It was not hard for her to get me to do almost anything and she knew it. So, when her and I went down to the local dance studio and enrolled ourselves in ballroom dance classes, I did have my misgivings. In the back of my mind I somehow thought this was only going to end up with me making a huge fool of myself. I was always fairly athletic, but dancing was something that just never seemed to come natural. Perhaps because my heart was never truly into it. Then again, maybe if I had a partner dressed like those ballroom dancers you see on television it might be a different story. We paid our dues after listening to a fifteen minute speech by the instructor and headed home. Our classes were to take place every Tuesday night at eight. I had mixed emotions as I drove home that night. For the most part I felt that I really could not make too much of a fool out of myself surrounded by other beginners, yet I still had my reservations. When Tuesday night finally arrived, Lynn and I drove the twenty minutes to the local dance studio. Lynn was much more excited about the whole thing than I was. It would be more accurate to say I was more nervous than excited, though I somehow resisted the temptation to stop at a bar for a few drinks to calm my nerves along the way. After parking the car we made our way into the dance studio. We were about ten minutes early when we made our way into the big room. It was a sparse room with few adornments other than the folding chairs which lined the walls. People were standing around chatting, waiting for the lessons to begin. Looking around, I counted a total of sixteen people, eight couples in all. Most seemed casually dressed, like ourselves, and my initial impression was that everyone was fairly friendly and easygoing. That was a definite plus. Several minutes later our instructors walked in carrying a portable sound system which they set up in the front of the room. They were an attractive couple in their thirties, I would guess. Judging from their accents, I would have to say they were from South America. I guess it would be nice to learn Latin dances from real Latin Americans I thought to myself. Later I found out they were indeed from Argentina and had been teaching dance most of their lives. Carlos and Maria stood in front of the room and gave a brief talk about the differen

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