Last night at Latin Dance class (that's right - quit laughing) I completely mastered the Salsa and the Tango.
Okay, well, I learned the absolute basic moves of the Salsa and the Tango, so I guess the "master of the dance" part might be a little misleading. Maybe I might be better suited to"student of the dance." Or "bumbling baffoon of the dance." Either way, I'm still taking those baby steps towards overcoming my inherent awkward whiteness so at least it can be said that this experience is a good thing.
Here are my stats:
Number of confirmed times in which I stepped on my girlfriend's feet: 1
Number of times where I may or may not have stepped on her feet but she was too polite to say anything: 11
Number of times where I may or may not have dug my fingers into her shoulder blade: countless.
I will say this much: dancing the Tango makes you feel like a badass - even the most basic steps. We learned to do the side promenade last night. It looks awesome, and the great thing is the female partner does all the twirling work, so all I have to do is concentrate on not screwing the pooch on my half of the deal and then we're golden. After a couple of those side promenades pretty soon I was thinking, "I must look awesome. I'm like freaking Al Pacino in Scent of a Woman!" A quick glance down the room towards the full length mirrors confirmed that no, I just look like a slightly overweight dude desperately trying to look like Al Pacino. I spent the rest of the night trying to dance away from the mirrors.
Here's another piece of self-knowledge that I uncovered while dancing the Tango. I am incapable of dancing this dance without making some sort of silly Tango face. Try as hard as I might to just concentrate on what I was doing, I found it impossible to keep from raising an eyebrow and smirking. I don't know if it was just a function of the "I'm awesome" thoughts running through my head or if I have some sort of dancing condition which prohibits me from looking like a normal person. I might need to consult a physician. I'll keep you all posted.
But I shall soldier on. And perhaps one day in the not so distant future you might see me up on stage in a Michael Flatley-esque show where I am wowing the audience with my incredibly masculine yet ever-so-slightly suspect dancing moves. So you have that to look forward to. In the meantime, say a prayer for my girlfriend's feet.