Dance it Out

Have you ever been so happy you had to dance it out? Like you just had to turn your music up and flail like a crazy person? Well it’s been a while, but tonight is definitely one of those nights for me. Chaco and I went to our first west coast swing dance lesson. It was interesting, adventurous, and a lot of fun. 

Our lesson was a little strange-- we were the only couple and had the instructor to ourselves, but there was an adolescent hip hop class going on at the same time on the other side of the room. We were listening to Brittany Spears... or Rihanna... or something that the hip hop class was using, but trying to do west coast swing to it. The instructor was good, but had very bad teeth. These teeth were mesmerizingly bad-- I couldn’t look away. 

Chaco’s naturally nerdy personality had the potential to make this a super uncomfortable situation. Surprisingly, it was fun. He did in fact touch me. He did not wear his Chacos; he wore shoes that would be born if a bedroom slipper, a moccasin, and a business loafer mated. I realized I don’t care about shoes. We held hands. We totally messed up and laughed about it. We went for a beer afterwards and talked about his thesis, which involves blue-green algae and nitrogen and phosphorous. We “accidentally” touched feet. I didn’t cough this time. 

At one point he suggested I write a blog about teaching. He he he. It was pretty ironic and I almost told him about Try Twenty-Five. Don’t worry-- I didn’t. I wouldn't sacrafice the top-secret mission. At the end of the evening he asked when he could see me again and he worked up the courage to kiss me. The kiss was not spectacular; but I feel like that could be remedied with some more alcohol. It needed some more liquid wild abandon. 

Really, I have had great dates with Chaco, The Hunter, and The Archeologist. When I take a step back and stop analyzing everything, I have fun and feel like I can be myself. Regardless of where this goes, I left the evening feeling very lucky to have met so many genuinely cool people on my internet dating voyage. In fact I felt so lucky that I had to put Phoenix in the cd player, crank it up until the whole neighborhood could hear it, and do some ferocious shimmy-shakin’ and whirling dervish twirling with my dog. Sometimes dancing definitely beats analyzing.