Dancing Queen, part 3

Got through the third class with no casualties. 🙂 I really dreaded it, but honestly, the people are so nice and so fun that I can pretty much ignore the disapproving gaze of the instructor. And I got to dance with Mike, who looked dashing in an eggplant-colored sweater that brought out his eyes, so alas, the evening wasn’t half bad. And I finally got to dance with Dave … twice, even!

Never, ever underestimate the importance of a good partner who can lead. Debonair Gary may irritate the fuck out of me, but boyfriend can lead. He will literally push me into the steps when I stop paying attention, and I need that. Dave is a great lead — whether he believes it or not, white boy has some rhythm on the dance floor. I was encouraging my partners to follow his lead, only for me to later overhear those guys telling their partners to just watch Dave and whoever his partner was at the time. I had to smile. 🙂

Mike and I share a sense of nerves and impatience. We breezed through the steps so quickly that we feel like we did something wrong, but then we came to the conclusion that we did just fine … we just forgot to pause and step, in favor of just stepping through the routines. Made me happy, anyway, to find somebody who moves at warp speed like I do. 😉

Dave swears he sees Mike checking me out once in awhile, but Operation: Get the Digits is still in progress. At least I now have a reason to come back for the next three classes — I need to get the boy’s number!

I checked out the dance class’s roster — turns out that Mike bears the last name of a candy bar. Hee hee. Oh, the sexual slurs I could make at this point, but I will digress before I indulge that temptation. Mmmm. Chocolate. *drool*

I was dancing with this little dipshit who kept criticizing me and telling me that I was fucking up the steps. I wanted to club him, because he did it to me last week as well. If I recall correctly, I was the one leading him through the steps, but again, I digress. Finally he admitted that he’s not doing much leading, which was about the biggest admission I’ll ever get from him. I dutifully claimed that I didn’t know what I was doing, but at that point, I really did have the steps down pat, so I figured I could afford to be humble. He’s a little guy with Big Man Syndrome, and I’ll never see him again after May 26 anyway — thankfully. I swear I have a torn ligament from this debacle. 🙂

I enjoy the people in the class and hope to get to know them a little better next week. Goofy Gary (formerly Onion-Breath Boy) makes no claims to know what the fuck he’s doing, despite the fact that his Stephanie is the star of the class. They’re sweet and a lot of fun to chat with, even though we only talk for 30 seconds at a time. 🙂

I’ve decided that I need a more uptempo dance routine. I don’t slow dance. I never have, and this will probably be the only time I do so. And she keeps playing the same annoying song every week. Gaah! Let’s get a little “Impressive Instant” (Madonna) going, shall we? X for everybody! 😉

At any rate, I guess I’ll go back next week. I have become addicted to Dave’s and my post-workout coffee-and-donut breaks. And everyone join me in wishing Dave all the best in his big trial on Wednesday! Can’t wait to hear the details!


You’d think that a boy with a candy bar for a last name would be easy to Google or Dogpile. Oh, but no. I searched for hours, and all I got was a phone number that might or might not be his. He seems pretty bright, so I thought he might have a blog or something. But I hit the MetroBlog Map and ran a few more searches, but to no avail. I swear, I was a better stalker *before* the Internet went public! 😉

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