Stephen and I are taking dance lessons. We knew our first dance would reflect two middle schoolers dancing to “This I Promise You” if we didn’t. You know the dance. The one where you had to leave room for either a ruler or Jesus depending on what kind of school you went to.
Let’s take a little survey, shall we? What song was your first middle school slow dance? I’m pretty sure all of my close friends danced to “This I Promise You” because we’re part of the N’SYNC generation.
Anyways, this was not exactly the vibe we really wanted for our first dance. So once a week, we go to dance class. It’s going ok… so far I think we have mastered walking without falling down. We’re basically at toddler level.
I definitely don’t let Stephen lead and because I have to go backwards, and I’m constantly concerned we’re going to crash into a wall. Because of these two things, they always make me close my eyes. It doesn’t matter though, I lead and turn too early anyway. We get through about two sets of “long, long, short shorts” until we mess up. So there is a very real possibility that the middle school slow dance will rear its ugly head. We’ll see.
While I am cautiously optimistic we can do this, I have only tried it in Toms and comfortable clothes. I become a little less optimistic when I remember I have to wear real shoes and a train.
It also doesn’t help that our instructors are perfect ballroom Gods. She looks like Tinkerbell with Rapunzel’s hair and always has on a pair of twinkly rhinestone shoes in a different color. He kind of looks like a younger Antonio Banderas with glasses. Sometimes they demonstrate for new couples and we always stop and watch. We get in trouble though because we’re supposed to be practicing.
So while they look like Fred and Ginger, Stephen and I are at Taylor Swift level:
