I was so tired and mentally distracted Friday night that my first few times on the floor I four stepped my waltz, tangoed my foxtrot and introduced timing changes in swing never before imagined.
The practice party ran from 9 until 12. I got there at 11. I had considered not going at all. It was silly going so late, but I have let “tired” keep me home too often. And the number of people I've met while sitting at home is virtually zero.
I knew most of the people in the main ballroom. Elizabeth was sitting alone, and I walked over to say hi. I asked politely about her husband’s schedule, and we started to talk a bit. I learned that she is from Gainesville, Oakwood actually, and we covered where she lives and where she used to live, and where her husband works, and where I live and used to live. It turns out that I've been following her around for nine years and we just met last month.
Mikela was there, looking the best I had seen her, though I didn’t think to tell her so. She lodged in my memory as swaths of color: Yellow hair, white smile and bright red dress. She was swept off by someone else before I got a chance to ask her to dance.
There were only a couple of people that I didn’t already know. Sitting off to the side was a guy I had seen huddled with Nyla earlier. Something about the way he had his sweatshirt pulled around him with the hood up gave him a rounded look. All I could think of was an emaciated weeble-wobble.
There was also a couple there that I had seen dance a number of times. I saw the man put his coat on, so I rushed over to meet them and say how much I enjoyed watching them samba.
My first dance of the night was a swing with Honey. I did my patterns confidently, but I had learned some of them in single time, and some in triple, and that was how they came back out. That she could stay with me proves her ability as a dancer and experience as a teacher.
I was mingling again when Stephanie and Mikela came at me from different directions asking to dance. Mikela conceded that Stephanie was first, so off we went.
We congratulated ourselves for remembering each other’s name, which neither of us had in the ballroom class two days before. We practiced first our waltz and then our tango.
I wandered into the latin room but I let myself be put off by the complexity of salsa music and the number of people I didn’t recognize. The only person I did know was Tatyana, who was acting as DJ that night. After a couple more smooth dances though, I forced myself back in.
The only people there this time were Tatyana and her friend Travis. They were sitting and talking, but she was happy to get up and dance. I did some moves well, and some badly, but I was glad to have gotten the practice.
Back in the main ballroom I danced with Stephanie a couple of more times. I didn’t think beyond the steps I was doing, but I had a pleasant time.
Mikela and I found ourselves both free just as they announced the last dance. It was an incredibly long rumba that stopped and started so many times I wondered if it was really a short song set to repeat. It seemed to go on forever. It went on so long that we finally walked off the floor with the music still on.
Mikela sat down to change her shoes, and I stayed in the middle of the room talking to other people. She got up and walked towards the door alone. At the last party I had invited her to go dancing at a nearby club afterwards, but this time I just wished her a good night.
When I walked outside I saw Stephanie talking with Brian, and the way they were standing close and leaning in made me realize that her invitations to dance may have signified more than a desire to practice.
I never have figured out how to determine which women are just being friendly, and which are genuinely interested. Can that be known or do you have to ask?
When my friend Ed found out that I was taking dancing lessons he said that nothing I do matters if I can’t say to a woman “Hi, I am Rick, would you like to go out some time.”
I didn’t take any chances on Friday. But I really was very tired.
