I was out dancing last night with some wonderful ladies and the very best of 90s hip hop was playing including this song I remember from my bat mitzvah years–Salt-N-Pepa’s “Shoop.” At least at 29, I’m a much better dancer than I was at 11.
You gotta love a hip hop music video where the men are the objects.
Will this be me soon? (Photo by Stuck in Customs via CC)
A couple of weeks ago I wrote that I was planning to take salsa classes. I mentioned that while I’m an adept dancer, I never learned to partner up with another person. I’ve always felt that this was some sort of symbol for other parts of my life, especially the relationship section, an area where I’ve admittedly had scant experience. In my metaphor addled brain, my inability to physically partner with a man on the dance floor was the rhythmic representation of my all short term, awkward pairings in the relationship sphere.
So last night, in the spirit of New Year’s and a Living Social package I purchased a couple of months ago, I went to my first salsa dance class at a Brooklyn studio. I was going to learn how to be led, even for just a couple of hours a week, even if it kills me. (It might.)
And I will chronicle my foray into partner dancing on this site. I’m not violating the sanctity of beginner salsa class, am I? It’s not like AA or Vegas, right?
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