I am the world’s worst dancer. Seriously, I am. I doubt it’s even close.
My ineptitude on the dance floor is ironic, I think, because I’m generally coordinated. I played sports in school and still work out regularly, ride a bike and play golf.
But make me dance, and my joints lock up and my brain races.
How … do … you … do this …
Fortunately, I’ve hidden my dancing woes pretty successfully as an adult. But lately, I’ve dated a few women who liked to dance. And they wanted us to go dancing.
No! Anything but that!
I blame Dancing with the Stars and similar TV shows for making dancing cool. Now, it comes up for discussion in dating whereas it usually didn’t before.
I told one woman very forcefully that I couldn’t dance. She wouldn’t listen and didn’t believe me. So she took me, almost kicking and screaming, to a club one night.
After a drink, she led me to the dance floor. I felt like she was leading me to slaughter. The three-piece band played a mellow song perfect for dancing, I suppose. For anyone but me, that is.
My date, bless her, tried to encourage me.
“Just feel the music,” she said.
I’ve heard that before – what does it mean to feel the music? I hear it, but I don’t feel it.
My date and I lasted two songs on the dance floor. I could see her eyes register disbelief and disappointment that I, indeed, couldn’t dance. Thankfully, she called an end to my embarrassment, and we headed to a booth.
“Told you,” I said apologetically.
Woman wants to teach me to dance
I dated another woman who also wanted to dance. She even bought some dance DVDs and planned to teach me in her home.
“You can do this,” she said. “I know you can.”
“I don’t know that,” I replied.
Unfortunately (or fortunately), we broke up before the dance lessons could commence.
Now, I’ve decided to face my fears head on. For some reason, I keep going out with women who like to dance. It’s a cruel twist of fate, given my inability to dance.
But I’m not willing to stop dating, so my only option is to take dance lessons. I checked the Internet and found a studio that offers beginning lessons called “My Two Left Feet.”
I called the studio and inquired. I told the woman that I literally could not dance.
“Yes, you can,” she replied. “We will not let you fail.”
“I may be the first,” I said. “You may kick me out of class because I’m so bad.”
“No, we’re not going to do that,” she said.
We’ll see. I’m going to try this class, which meets on Friday night.
Fortunately, there’s no long-term commitment. You just show up and pay for the 90 minutes of instruction. It’s $20.
Generally, I’m a positive person. I accept challenges. But this challenge – learning to dance – makes me light-headed and sick to my stomach.
How will I do? I don’t know.
But I’ll let you know. At least I think I will … unless I fail magnificently and my shame is too great.
Wish me luck.
I’m going to need it.