I didn’t know a thing about dancing, but always wanted to learn so when I saw the ad in the newspaper I decided that a free week of lessons was worth a shot. It wasn’t a skill I thought I would ever really need, and I assumed it would be hard to practice, given the fact that I was pretty much a confirmed spinster and did not move in “those” kinds of social circles…but why not? So, I made the call and managed to get squeezed into the class. The person on the other end of the phone assured me I wasn’t the only one that would be showing up without already having a partner in mind. After I hung up, it hit me that I could end up dancing with someone really smelly, or who would tromp on my toes, or worse, I’d end up dancing with the instructor when nobody else was available.
A week later I walked into the building fifteen minutes before class started, wearing my requisite jeans, t-shirt, and the dancing shoes I’d been instructed to order, which had a t-strap and some sort of frighteningly non-tread-worthy soles on the bottom. They said it was so I wouldn’t scuff the dance floor, but I personally believe in the idea that the world could conspire to see me fall flat on my face.
As it turns out, I was the first student to arrive. The instructor, a rather nondescript yet graceful looking young man greeted me, pointed me toward the room for classes and retreated into a glass-walled office. The room looked like a ballet studio should, with wood floors and mirrors on every wall. I peeked around and, seeing that I was alone, did a few experimental twirls in my new shoes. I managed not to fall on my face, but I did teeter for a moment when I stopped spinning and I ended up doing a comical double take when I realized I had been spotted…and then saw that it was just my reflection in the wall mirrors.

I decided to stop experimenting with spins and moved to sit on a wooden bench on one end of the room. As I sat, people began to filter in. I was relieved to see that there were just as many couples as single people walking in alone, and nobody looked especially likely to have strong b.o. I couldn’t account for any propensities toward toe-stomping. Right on time, the instructor swept into the room, introducing himself and telling us all where to stand in one breath. He explained that, for the first class, we would all learn the steps by ourselves before trying to dance with a partner. We all moved an appropriate arm-and-a-half length away from each other, smiling at each other nervously and trying to be sure we were as far from the instructor as possible. It reminded me greatly of the first day of school when I was a kid. Nobody ever wanted to sit close to teacher.

The intructor explained that the first dance we were going to learn was a simple salsa dance, which would fit well in many of the local clubs that played salsa and other music of that ilk. He patiently explained the beat of salsa, the steps, and then played music so we could hear the beat for ourselves. It took me some effort, not being a music afficianado by any stretch of the imagination, but  eventually I got it. The steps were surprisingly easy and, fortunately, learning the steps for the female part didn’t feel so much like dancing backwards as I thought. Take that, Fred and Ginger!

Finally, toward the end of the class, the instructor assigned us all partners – at least, for those of us who didn’t come with somebody. The instructor paired me last, as I was avoiding gazes rather scrupulously…which was probably my first mistake. My second mistake was looking up at my new partner…who also happened to be someone I knew…my boss. We both had nervous how-strange-to-see-you-here looks on our faces. I had only been working at  my new job for about three weeks, and he and I hadn’t had much contact beyond the interview. I was told he thought I’d nailed everything in the interview, but I had only seen him in passing since as he stopped by to ask for progress updates and if I could handle this or that assignment with so-and-so.

Distracted as I was, I almost stepped on his toes as the instructor started the music and I took my first step forward instead of back. He laughed it off, thankfully, and after that we got into a rhythm together. By the end of the song, the dancing was easy and, fortunately, seemed to have rubbed off most of the awkwardness. The instructor gave us a quick rundown of things to work on, or think about, for next time, and as he finished most people stood around chatting about when they could practice together and, in some cases, scheduling tentative dinner dates. I, on the other hand, was ready to bolt.

I threw a smile toward my boss, turned toward the door…and almost fell flat on my butt as my shoes skidding out from under me. Fortunately, someone caught me under the arms before I could thoroughly embarass myself. I apologized, turned around, and realized that my boss…who I should really call Evyn, since he just danced with me and saved my dignity…had been the one to catch me. I felt my ears turning red in embarassment. He smiled at me as I stammered my thanks.

Then I slowly, carefully, turned around and fled.