The Best Things Happen When You're Dancing...(most of the time)

I love to dance. I have been known to bust a solo move every once and a while, but mostly I enjoy dances that come with a predetermined set of steps. This allows for someone like me who is not naturally blessed with good coordination to feel like Ginger Rogers when lead by the right partner. There is almost nothing that feels as good as coming out of a complicated sequence of steps and managing to land on the correct beat. I often wish I had been born in the 30s or 40s when knowing how to dance was the norm instead of reserved for a select group of people who are trying to keep a lost art alive.

Almost every Thursday night this summer, my sister and I have donned our dancing shoes and headed out for a night on the town! It is nearly impossible in this day and age to find any gentlemen willing to accompany us, so we usually go ourselves. I actually prefer this, because there is no better way to learn style and new moves than by dancing with a dozen different men each night. Some of the best dancers I have met have been easily double or even triple my age, and I love being asked to dance by some of these guys who have actually lived during the time when swing dancing was popular. Not only do these men know how to dance, but they also generally have a certain air of chivalry about them that seems to have long ago gone out of fashion.

I thought that this may have been the case when a man who was easily 75 years old approached me and asked me to dance last night. I cannot speak to his dancing skills in his younger years, but the summary of his moves now seemed to consist of him standing still and spinning me around until I was so dizzy I could barely stand up. I felt lucky when he threw in a basic step or a quick wrap so that I could orient myself to the room for second. After the song came to an end, I thanked him for the dance and quickly hopped up onto the edge of a wall to get my bearings straight. I felt certain that he would not have the wherewithal to make the necessary 12-inch bounce in order to join me on the wall. I was wrong. He jumped right up next to me, much too close. As I uncomfortably tried to move over, he proceeded to croon "Teach Me Tonight" into my ear in a loud and off-key fashion. Luckily my sister happened to come over at that moment, and he decided that he'd like to dance with her.

I thought that we had successfully lost him after the band stopped playing, but suddenly he appeared out of nowhere to put his arms around both of us. We tried to squirm away, but to no avail. He planted a wet kiss on both of our cheeks, one after the other. Eew. I don't mind dancing with older men, but I definitely draw the line at letting them kiss me! Perhaps next week I will try to stick to with the 60 and under crowd...