A few months back, I agreed to go to salsa classes (there was alcohol involved). I didn't just agree to it, though, my friend made me pinky swear to this plan (I repeat, there was alcohol involved). After that, there was no way I could back out. I was pretty much locked in. So, I've been going to salsa classes with a group of friends after work, since others wanted in on the fun.
Now, the way these classes work is that you're constantly changing partners. They do that so that you get as much experience as possible. Everyone does the same move slightly differently, and figuring out what works (and what doesn't) makes you a better dancer. Particularly for someone who has to lead, working with different people is helpful to figure out the details.
However, changing partners all the time also meant that for the first few weeks, I was dealing with total strangers. That led to all sorts of fun. For starters, where should I look when dancing with this new-found partner? The most natural thing to do was to look my partner in the eye/face, but this meant I was now in close quarters with a stranger, looking her in the eye, and trying to not make a fool of yourself. That unnerved my partner a couple of times, at least until people realized that I wasn't trying to gawk.
What's more, the first instructor I had used to constantly remind us to smile while dancing, since you're more likely to have fun that way. Do you have any idea how many women assume that if you smile you're trying to hit on them? You don't even have to smile at her, any kind of goofy grin on your face can do the trick. And if the woman was even remotely close to my age, it was over. Again, that got better over time as my I'm-not-a-horn-dog-swear-to-God vibe stayed consistent, but I didn't have that luxury at first.
Okay, so new plan: look at my feet to make sure I had the footwork down. That's generally considered a sign that you don't know what you're doing, though, so instructors always discourage that. Also, your partner can take this as a sign of timidity, and suddenly think less of you. I've actually had someone grumble about me muttering a quick "oops, sorry" when I screwed up a step. It turns out that the new plan wasn't all that great, either.
The last option was to stare off into space. Given the last two paragraphs, this might seem like a decent compromise. I wasn't the incompetent guy who stared at his feet, but I wasn't the creep gawking at my partner, either. Unfortunately, that's probably the most awkward of the three options in practice. Have you ever tried facing someone and standing within arm's reach of someone for minutes at a time without looking at them? Yeah, it's uncomfortable.
Of course, there was also the little matter of not making a fool of myself on the dance floor. The way this class was being taught, even guys have to learn how to do turns all over the place. Turning meant potentially disrupting my balance, especially since the (pencil) turn that we learned was a quick turn. As an added bonus, practicing that motion was likely to make me dizzy. And since you turn faster when you do it correctly, getting better at the turn can make you dizzier if you don't do it completely right.
So, for the first few weeks, my thought process went a little like this:
Now, the way these classes work is that you're constantly changing partners. They do that so that you get as much experience as possible. Everyone does the same move slightly differently, and figuring out what works (and what doesn't) makes you a better dancer. Particularly for someone who has to lead, working with different people is helpful to figure out the details.
However, changing partners all the time also meant that for the first few weeks, I was dealing with total strangers. That led to all sorts of fun. For starters, where should I look when dancing with this new-found partner? The most natural thing to do was to look my partner in the eye/face, but this meant I was now in close quarters with a stranger, looking her in the eye, and trying to not make a fool of yourself. That unnerved my partner a couple of times, at least until people realized that I wasn't trying to gawk.
What's more, the first instructor I had used to constantly remind us to smile while dancing, since you're more likely to have fun that way. Do you have any idea how many women assume that if you smile you're trying to hit on them? You don't even have to smile at her, any kind of goofy grin on your face can do the trick. And if the woman was even remotely close to my age, it was over. Again, that got better over time as my I'm-not-a-horn-dog-swear-to-God vibe stayed consistent, but I didn't have that luxury at first.
Okay, so new plan: look at my feet to make sure I had the footwork down. That's generally considered a sign that you don't know what you're doing, though, so instructors always discourage that. Also, your partner can take this as a sign of timidity, and suddenly think less of you. I've actually had someone grumble about me muttering a quick "oops, sorry" when I screwed up a step. It turns out that the new plan wasn't all that great, either.
The last option was to stare off into space. Given the last two paragraphs, this might seem like a decent compromise. I wasn't the incompetent guy who stared at his feet, but I wasn't the creep gawking at my partner, either. Unfortunately, that's probably the most awkward of the three options in practice. Have you ever tried facing someone and standing within arm's reach of someone for minutes at a time without looking at them? Yeah, it's uncomfortable.
Of course, there was also the little matter of not making a fool of myself on the dance floor. The way this class was being taught, even guys have to learn how to do turns all over the place. Turning meant potentially disrupting my balance, especially since the (pencil) turn that we learned was a quick turn. As an added bonus, practicing that motion was likely to make me dizzy. And since you turn faster when you do it correctly, getting better at the turn can make you dizzier if you don't do it completely right.
So, for the first few weeks, my thought process went a little like this:
- Don't look your partner in the eye for too long, she'll think you're gawking
- Don't smile too much, or she might take that the wrong way
- Don't look down at your feet, or you're the poor sap who's intimidated by his partner
- Definitely don't look at her torso (this one should be obvious)
- Don't look away, you're just going to make things uncomfortable
- Don't turn incorrectly, you're going to fall over if you do
- Don't turn correctly too many times in a row, you'll get dizzy (and then fall over)
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