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Random thoughts from a woman in love

Steve and I are taking ballroom dance lessons. *sigh* Not an easy thing for a woman who was officially certified as a klutz by her ballet-dancing sisters and who is so shy, she blushes at the thought of dancing with strangers.

At our second lesson, we “warmed up” with a cha-cha.  Ummmm…that’s not a warm-up, that’s a guaranteed way to get me to quit. It was too much like…exercise!   Five minutes into the warm-up and I was sweating.  Steve was grinning from ear to ear, dancing his big ol’ heart out.  Being the trooper (read: sucker) that I am, I continued cha-cha-ing with gusto.

Finally, the music stopped.  I was tired.  Already.  How on Earth was I going to keep dancing for the next 50 minutes? Steve smiled and leaned over to whisper in my ear, “I am so happy right now. I’ve wanted to do this for 36 years, and I finally have someone who wants to learn with me.  You are doing great!”  Okay – that’s how.  I couldn’t quit after hearing those words from him.  And he did look very happy.  He had such a cute, goofy grin on his face and his blue eyes sparkled.  He was in his element.

The instructor yelled “Gentlemen, grab your partner.  Let’s waltz.”  Steve grabbed my hand; put his other hand on my back, and, whoosh!  I was in his arms.  The music started, and we were waltzing.  The man can dance.  I followed him, trying my best to look graceful.   I forgot I was tired and just enjoyed sharing the music with him.

I got to waltz with him for a whole 2 minutes, and, then, the dreaded “Switch your partners!” was called.  Steve handed me over to the man next to us with a quick, “Bye honey!” as the woman to his right eagerly stepped up to him.

Wait! I’m not ready!  I stepped up to my new partner – my shyness-gene went into red-alert status.  Stranger danger!  He smiled and said, “Hello, care to waltz?”  I blushed, as I tend to do, and gingerly placed my left hand on his shoulder as he took my right hand.  Okay.  Breathe. This will not kill me.   The music started, we began to dance.  1, 2, 3; 1, 2, 3.  Hey!  I was dancing! With a stranger, no less.   And the world had not ended.

For the next 45 minutes, I danced with every man in the room, except Steve.  I was learning new steps to combine with that 1,2,3 box step, and I was “getting” it, to a degree.  I hadn’t stepped on anyone’s toes, I was tired, but I felt good, and I could do the reverse turn quite well.

The call for last dance came up, and we got to go back with our “mate”.  Finally!  I scurried back to where Steve stood with a gaggle of women who were flirting shamelessly with him (happens all the time – he’s hard to resist).  The gaggle scattered and Steve took my hand.  “Ready, baby? Let’s show them how it’s done.”   (See why I love this man?)  Up went his right hand, forming a perfect bridge, his left hand pressed firmly on my back, elbow out.  The music played, and we danced and twirled across the room as he led me through the new steps we had learned.  Brilliant!  It was as if we had waltzed together all of our lives.  I was in heaven.  The music ended much too soon.  Our instructor smiled, pointed at the two of us, and said, “Ladies and gentlemen – please watch this couple dance.  Their feet understand the music. Lovely!”  He played the waltz again, and we danced for our class.  Look ma! I’m dancing!  I am not a klutz anymore.

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