Hanging Up The Dancing Shoes

My friends are loads of fun- they take kayak crash-courses with me, venture into new types of restaurants and experience mouth-blazing spicy food with me. They dress up like crazy people on Halloween nights, and try all sorts of different hobbies with me. Much more than just your average partying/drinking crowd.

Last year we began going to a salsa club every week, learning to dance. Despite having two left feet, I had a great time. To be honest, its not too scary. If you have a great lead, you can fool anyone into thinking you have some latina in your blood. It involves a lot of hip movement, but when everyone else is shakin' it, you don't feel so auspicious.

I organized a get-together among my friends for a salsa cruise in Boston last sunday, after a long break from the nightclub routine of last summer. It seemed like a lot of fun would be had by all, but unfortunately I just wasn't able to get my butt on that boat. It turns out, salsa-burnout is hard to overcome. As I was standing next to The Landing a smirking man oozed by me, and wickedly said "I hope you're coming on the cruise, because I really want to dance with you." He had the charisma of an encyclopedia salesman, but apprently the skin-tight shirt he was wearing gave him some sort of superpower, or the ability to outsleeze every woman in sight with the simplest glance. My skin crawled. I looked fervently towards the sidewalk for my friends. I begged myself to be strong and forget the smarmy sound of his voice.

Unfortunately, I've just lost that lovin' feeling for the dance. It's time to hang up the salsa shoes.

With the new preggie-bod I may be well suited for bellydancing, though. And I know exactly who would like to try it with me. :)