Like the title of this post would imply, I don’t dance. I just don’t enjoy forcing my limbs to flail about as if independent from my torso. I look foolish enough on my own; I don’t need to throw my pitiful dancing dancing abilities into the mix.
I’ve never really enjoyed dancing. In high school, I would go to dances, but that’s because my friends were there. It didn’t hurt that there were also girls there, but now that I’m married, going where the ladies are isn’t very high on my priority list. I think that it falls just above “route canal”. Well, maybe below. I can’t be certain.
Ever since we’ve been married, Holly has wanted me to take her dancing. I have been very good at avoiding having to commit to this but I knew that my luck would eventually run out. Saturday night, that well finally ran dry.
Somebody in our ward decided that it was a good idea to have a dance for the adults. In an effort to prevent everyone from looking like fools, there was swing dance instruction for the first hour or so. Since we had been in Idaho all day, we arrived about 40 minutes late. I honestly didn’t think that this was a big deal but because there was only a dozen or so couples there, we were immediately singled out when we walked in. The instructors tried to catch us up to everyone else, and we seemed to be doing OK with learning the steps, but once we started dancing for real, neither one of us could remember how to do anything.
There was a lot of laughing at ourselves as we tried to look as cool as the dance instructors but soon realized that there would be no fancy moves like on Dancing With The Stars. It was more like two monkeys that had been set on fire trying to extinguish themselves. Dancing With The Flaming Monkeys. In the end though, we had a good time so I’m glad that I finally took Holly dancing but I don’t think that there will be an encore performance anytime soon.
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Thanks for taking me dancing. I had fun with you.