I've got the moves like Jagger...

Ballroom dancing has been on my list for a while…even before I was single.  So, when the opportunity to purchase a Groupon for 2 free private lessons, 1 group lesson and one dance party came up, how could I resist? 

So, honestly, I am a terrible dancer.  Even 3 sheets to the wind, it’s like watching Elaine from “Seinfeld”.  I think I am a good dancer once a bottle of wine has been consumed and have been known to bust out the occasional sprinkler or running man, but seriously, I can’t dance.

The Groupon was lessons for two, but since I am a single, I informed the very pleasant, very perky young lady on the telephone when I called to make my first class appointment.  “No worries” she says.  “I will set you up with one of our fabulous instructors.”  This could mean that I am dancing with an 80 yr. old with a bum hip or a delicious little dancing machine just old enough to be legal.  Either way, I am nervous.

Off I go, dance shoes in hand, and butterflies in my stomach. 

Arriving at the studio just in time, I fill out the pre-requisite information card and wait.  Out of no where, twirling in like Prince Charming from Disney on Ice, comes Justin, my dancing partner and instructor.  Young and eager, he takes me by the arm and pulls me around the studio for the grand tour.  He asks me what brought me here, how old I was, did I have kids, have I danced before, my mother’s maiden name.  Ok…he didn’t ask my mother’s maiden name, but he might as well of. 

I was polite and interested and answered all his questions, knowing full well he was trying to break the ice and make me comfortable.

I first learned the “stance.”  This required me putting my hand on the upper half of a strong bicep, his hand on the middle of my back, our other hands clapsed in eachother’s and eye contact.  He is big on eye contact.  Immediately I wonder if I put enough deodorant on this morning. 

We started out with the foxtrot.  Sounds easy right?  WRONG!  Foxtrot sucks.  I couldn’t get my footwork to match his, my hand was sweaty because I was in the clutches of a young, attractive dancing machine and I was nervous.  I really wanted to do well. 

The whole time, we chatted and laughed as I stepped on his feet, side stepped left instead of right and eventually became more at ease with the idea of dancing and being very close to a very young man (who by the way smelled fantastic)  Mission accomplished.  My first fox trot.  I am excited!

Next we moved on to the tango.  I kicked ass!  The tango is definitely my thing.  Justin told me I was sassy enough to make it work and that he saw the passion in my eyes for the dance.  Mama mia, Justin.  It was a lot of fun and that is one dance I am really looking forward to learning more about.

Next was the rumba.  Holy shit Batman.  I couldn’t get the footwork right, he scolded me for looking at my feet when he really wanted me to look right in his eyes.  (His words not my imagination)  He made it very difficult to concentrate when he told me the rumba was all about passion and made me get close enough I could see the light reflect in his eyes.  (Insert harp music, a field of flowers and …wait a minute, where was I)  Talk about intimidating.  Young, and smelling so good (did I mention he smelled good?), with a great smile, I couldn’t possibly look right at him.  Here I am sweating and swearing like a sailor because I stepped on his shoes…again.  I was so flustered at one point I made some dumb ass comment about liking his tie.  Keep in mind, these conversations are happening while we dance.  We don’t stop to chat, we talk and dance…at the same time.  I can’t even drink from a water bottle and walk at the same time.  While I fumbled around with my footwork he asked me, “if you could go anywhere in the world, price being no object, where would it be?  I said without hesitation, “Italy.”  He proceeds to say, “Ok, you and the man of your dreams are in Italy.  You have seen the sights, maybe toured a vineyard, taken in the architecture and the museums, had a romantic meal in a café, drank a bottle of wine.  You feel the possibility in the air…the warm breeze caresses your face.  Night is falling, and in the background sensual music starts to play.  He takes you in his arms, right there in the café, fire in his eyes and you feel the passion. It’s the kind of night where anything could happen.  (long pause while he stares right at me)  Now we rumba.” I made eye contact, figured out my right from my left and rumba-ed my ass off. 

Our last dance and the most fun was swing.  I did pretty amazing if I do say so myself.  Besides, Justin told me it was the best dance of the afternoon and asked if I was sure I had never danced before.  I know it’s his job to be charming and encouraging, but leave me to my fantasy would you.

Swing is not as hard as you would think.  The steps are basic and to be honest, I really like being spun.  At one point, we were travelling a little too fast and I had to confess that I have a tendancy to get motion sickness…and regardless of how much fun I was having, I didn’t want to vomit on his shiny, black dancing shoes. 

He talked my ear off the whole time. We talked about Christmas cookies, movies, my kids, the weather, everything and anything.  He did he best to keep me from overthinking.  Number one to distract me from looking at my feet, number two so I would stop thinking so much and number three, because I am pretty sure it’s a teaching strategy. 

I only actually stumbled once and that was when he was spinning me during the swing when he said, and I quote, “This is the part of the dance I like best.  I can have my way with you and there’s nothing you can do about it.  The music and I are in control.”

Definitely looking forward to my next lesson.

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