All Dressed Up...

Otherwise known as... Leaving the Picnic Basket Behind...

I had plans to go to Leu Gardens last night.  I had imagined a little romantic picnic, sharing some wine, a little cuddling...  You know, nice things to do with someone who gives you those telltale butterflies in your stomach.

Long story short, evil forces intervened to ensure my little romantic picture was mere fantasy.  The details are unimportant.  The way I handled the situation, though, is.

When Friday Night Date and I were on the phone, and I was all dressed up, and we were talking about how we weren't going out, he asked, Jen, what are you going to do?

That was a no brainer.  I'm going to class.

We continued to talk, but the time was approaching 8:00.  I grabbed my dancing shoes and my purse, and headed out the door, leaving the picnic basket behind.

As I drove to the Slightly Bigger Town Next to My Small Town, Friday Night Date and I had a good conversation.  It didn't quite make up for an evening out in what I believe is the most perfect atmosphere on the planet, but it was better than nothing.  When we hung up, Linette texted me about an instant later.  I called her (because texting and driving is to be avoided at all costs, and yes, I know, talking and driving isn't much better), and we spoke for a few minutes.  In fact, we were still talking when I walked through the door at Salsa Heat.  I got off the phone as soon as possible, and was greeted by kisses all around.

I really love the people I've gotten to know at my salsa studio.  Everyone is so friendly, and welcoming, and just all-around good people. My pal Remon was there, too, having texted me in the afternoon to see if I would be going to class.  He's kind of like my salsa boyfriend.  Whenever the men have to pick a partner, his hand reaches for me.  We're both exactly the same level, having attended our very first class together.  We even both bought new punch cards last night, having used up the tenth punch of our respective cards during our last visits to the studio.

I told him how I was hungry, because my plans had changed at the last minute and I hadn't had a chance to eat.  We made a plan to grab a bite after class.  Friday night was shaping up to be pretty good, all things considered!

When we lined up in front of the mirror to warm up, the instructor, the beautiful, spunky Raina, exclaimed, I love your skirt!  So cute!  I had taken off my tights and wool plaid skirt and put on the magic polka-dotted skirt when it became evident that I wouldn't be spending the evening in the chilly December air.  The magic skirt is a cure-all for the blues.  Not that I necessarily had the blues, but it definitely gave me the lift I needed after the disappointing change in plans. 

Raina, this skirt moves so well, I hardly need to dance at all!  She looked at me and jokingly pouted. The music started, and we began our warm-up.  I knew I made the right decision-- it felt so good to be out and dancing.

After the warm-up, we practiced a move called Paella. Raina then taught the men a combo to go with Paella for when they're out in 'da club and want to do more than just one move before having to think of the next move to do.  As difficult as it is for me to follow, I am definitely relieved not to be the man on the dance floor who has to keep thinking the whole time about what to do next with his partner.  I just have to keep myself upright, off my partner's toes, and end up in the correct dance space after a turn.  The man's job takes infinitely more skill than that when leading a lady on the dance floor.

Last night, I did okay.  Not great, but I held my own.  At times I followed really well, and at other times, not so much.  

Typical.

Sure, I had been disappointed about the lack of follow through with the original Friday night excursion, but as previously stated, I'm nothing if not flexible.  The Friday night out that replaced the date was a pretty good one.  All dressed up with no place to go?  Never again.