Friday, January 13, 2012

Puttin' on My Dancing Shoes

I actually don't own a pair of dancing shoes, but I will be going out dancing tonight, which is huge.  And when I say dancing, I don't mean going to a nightclub where I'll stand in the middle of the floor with a girlfriend and flail my arms around to Lady Gaga as I simultaneously sing along really, really loud.  Not that there's anything wrong with that, that just isn't my cup of tea these days.  Goodness I sound boring.

Anyway, my friend and I are going to dance salsa.  I haven't danced salsa in years.  Okay, I take that back.  Let me rephrase:  I haven't danced salsa with another human as a partner, in years.  The last time I danced was about three weeks ago when I was alone cooking and my iPod was on random.  An awesome song came on and I started to spin myself around like a crazy lady. But Florida has really good latin radio stations and I've found myself grooving to Pitbull and Marc Anthony in the car.  I laugh at myself a lot when I do that, which I'm sure looks completely normal to passersby.

Back in my teenage years I took my salsa dancing entirely too seriously and went to clubs six nights a week, just to get my groove on.  It was like my religion.  But, a couple years into college the scene got old.  The women were too catty and the men, too slimy.  I started to prefer the atmosphere in country bars, far away from the clubs where I was guaranteed to run into someone from my hardcore clubbing days in high school.  I was just over it.  See, the good thing about going to clubs early was that I got that type of partying out of my system.  Years after my girlfriends graduated college, they were still getting the club bug out of their system, where I was over it and ready to stay in and play BINGO. 

I guess I've become pretty boring.  Maybe it's because I married a white guy.  A very loveable, handsome white guy, but a white guy nonetheless.  We could just sit in our car with beer and listen to country music and talk all night (and sing along exceptionally bad).  My sister married one of us, a first generation Mexican-American, and they still go dancing sometimes.  Rarely, but he can dance, and they have fun.  She's much more in tune with our Mexican side.  She does live in California, too, so I do take that into consideration.  Whenever she visits I learn what all the cool new songs are, and I feel like such a boring old fart when she does, even though she's two years older than me.

I'm more Banana Republic meets Anthropolgie, she's more Forever 21 meets PacSun.  People often think I'm older.  It's pretty sad.

But anyway, I'm excited about tonight.  I don't expect a whole lot, and I'm scared that Floridians dance on the 2 and not on the 1...or the other way around.  I'm not even sure which I dance on anymore.

I just hope my butt and shoulders don't hurt tomorrow.  That would make me feel ever so pathetic.  I'm totally wearing flats.  Screw the heels.  I want my knees to last into old age.