Two-step for one

Yee-haw!

Country Western dancing. Let’s go!

This was my feeling as I decided to try something new, a bit out of my comfort zone, in my quest to experiment with meeting available men in the “natural” way. Common advice from dating experts is to take a class in something that interests you. So I thought I’d give it a try.

Since I know no Country Western dances, my gal pal — also known as my courage crutch — and I knew we needed to show up for the lessons an hour before the club’s normal hours.

When we arrived, a line-dance lesson was in full swing. We hopped right in. Although the instructor wasn’t as thorough as my Jazzercise instructor, I followed along reasonably well, messing up less and less as the lesson progressed. My gal pal, however, bailed about half way through and sat down.

Our problem began when the next dance was a couples two-step. All those interested in learning gathered on the dance floor. The men picked a partner. Just like in high school, no one picked either of us. Feeling a bit rejected, we sat down rather than two-step alone. We watched in interest as the lesson progressed, sure we could have picked up the reasonably simple steps.

The lesson over, open dancing began. We realized we were like new-born calves in a sea of mature cows and bulls. Nearly all the dancers knew the intricate patterns to the music. We realized we’d look like innocent rodeo lambs released from the gate, with only a few seconds before we were writhing under a cowboy’s powerful ropes, squealing forlornly. We didn’t want feign we knew what we were doing — although admittedly we were used to doing that since we were both consultants.

So we settled for marveling at the smooth, energetic moves of the elderly man twirling several 20-something girls. We were enthralled by the several dozen various-shaped bodies all moving to their own style. And we stealthily hid from any potential partner’s gaze as the single men hunted for available women. We knew we were not ready to be hauled around the dance floor by someone who actually knew what he was doing.

At the band’s first break, we decided it was time for us to head back to our barns. We could be satisfied that we’d tried a new pasture and we’d survived with our dignities in tact.
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