Swing Dancing for Fun and Profit

Well, maybe no actual profit, but I actually had fun swing dancing this weekend. Denisa is a big dancer, and I have all the talent for dancing of an overweight giraffe. Thankfully, I’m not the one who has to watch me dance (or watch out for my huge feet). It’s a sign of just how desperate for dancing Denisa is when she’s willing to put up with my blundering.

That said, our town had a live big band dance this past weekend, and Denisa and I went.

So, how did I do? No broken bones this time. (As opposed to other times. Yes, it’s true. I’ve broken at least one leg (not my own) swing dancing in my life. When I say I have difficulty dancing, maybe what I mean is “My dates have difficulty walking after they’ve danced with me.”) Most of the people at the dance were high schoolers (at least, I think they were high schoolers. High schoolers look younger every year. I’m convinced it’s because they’ve started calling elementary school students “Freshmen”), but there were some genuine adults there, too.

It started with an hour of instruction, which was really helpful. Although by the end of the evening, I was really kind of wishing I had my iPad with me so that I could find some new moves on YouTube. (Wow. I just realized what a complete and utter geek I am. Sometimes I even impress myself. Oh well–at least I wasn’t thinking about different ways of building a robot that could swing dance for me . . . )

We had fun. It helped that there was an all you can eat chocolate fountain, complete with macaroons, strawberries, cherries, oreos, and every other dippable item you can think of. I had a lot of that, and I only got some of it on my shirt. (Note to self: next time there’s a chocolate fountain, wear a darker shirt. Preferably a brown one.)

Various other thoughts:

A lot of the dresses the high school girls were wearing were dresses that I would never let DC out of the house with, once she’s old enough to actually go to a dance. This might be because I’m really conservative, although I don’t feel particularly conservative in many ways. I understand why kids would want to wear those clothes. I remember feeling very grown up. I think everyone always feels very grown up. My seven-year-old son thinks he’s very mature. I think I’m mature–but I’m sure in another decade I’ll look back on the me now and think I was really inexperienced. That’s life.

However, this is why kids have these things called “parents.” Parents who tell them “Put something else on.” Because I also remember being a teenage boy. And I know what’s going through teenage boy heads, and how little it takes to set those teenage minds a’ whirrin’.

There was some talk by some of the dance instructors about starting a more formal instruction group. Denisa and I might actually do it. We’ll see how much it costs, if it actually happens, and when they schedule it. Because as much as I realize I’m no good at dancing, I also realize how much Denisa loves it. And anything that makes Denisa happy is a good thing in my book.

Except fish. 🙂

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