Last
Friday, Delycia and I attended our first “practice dance” at the Fred Astaire
Studio in Mystic (CT), and it was a tense and almost traumatic experience for
me. I do love dancing with Delycia, and I definitely feel like I’m slowly
learning the basic steps and movements, but Friday night I felt like I was
suffering through 9th grade math class again. I seemed to have no
idea how to do what was being asked of me, just as I usually felt in math
class. Strobe lights were shaking across the dance floor, the music seemed to
be shouting, and, for some reason, I suddenly lost everything I had learned in our
dance lessons. The basic box step seemed impossible, and the swing steps caused
me to stumble against my graceful partner again and again. Every so often, our instructor
rushed up excitedly and asked how I was doing, and I’m sure my smile was
colorless and scared-looking as I said, “Just fine”, which is what I always
said when my math teacher asked the same question. It was a strained and
anxious few hours for me, except, thankfully, for the occasional slow dances,
when I simply snuggled as close as possible to Delycia and we became two kids
just coming together in love.
Don’t
for a minute think I’m going to give up. In the coming months and years, I am determined
to make myself into a suave senior-citizen dancer worthy to waltz and swing
with my gorgeous girlfriend.
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