DH and I are still going strong with ballroom and Latin dancing. It's gotten to the point where we've pushed the couches and tables against the wall of our family room and have agreed it looks better that way 'cause there's more room. We also leave our dance shoes under one of those tables so we'll be ready at a moment's notice for a spin around the floor.
We went to a masquerade ball at the dance studio last Thursday. I went as a Spanish senorita, and Wayne... well, he was just his handsome self, only with a mask.
The dance parties are fun, yet a bit nerve-wracking. One of the few rules is that you cannot turn down a dance. This means that Wayne and I, still with our dance training-wheels on, were dancing with some incredibly good (and patient!) dancers. I had it easier- all I had to do was follow. Poor hubby had to keep some highly trained ladies happy on the floor- talk about stress.
It's really, really good, though, to see how far you have yet to go. Humbling. Our dance teacher took me out for a rumba that bore not even casual resemblance to the rumba we knew. I actually asked her afterwards what dance it was, even though it was announced. I did another one later with another teacher that at least I could feel was the same dance... every now and then he did a pattern I almost recognized.
There's another teacher who led me on a wild, free-form cha-cha in the lobby. I fought every exhilarating second to keep up with that woman's crazy feet, and had the most fun I had had all night in those 4 minutes with her.
I had another dance partner who awakened me to the potential of the Latin dances. He was Latino himself, and was an amazing dancer. The meringue we shared was okay, but doing the cha-cha with him was like making love to a complete stranger on the dance-floor. I was hot and bothered after we finished dancing, and there wasn't even any body-contact. I have a deep respect for the sensual rhythms and nuances of that dance now.
I know I have to be patient; a few months of lessons don't make us good dancers in the grand scheme of things. A complicated, well executed and nuanced dance gives me such a giddy feeling- I felt drunk and high on that darkened dance-floor, twirling in the arms of an experienced partner. We have far to go before DH and I can replicate that magic together. However, I catch flashes of it every now and then when we dance, and that convinces me that we can indeed get there from here. It's the journey, not the destination, n'est pas?