U-Pick x 2: In Pursuit of Passion... on the Dance Floor*

After Tiffany and I had been dating about two years, we signed up for a salsa dancing class in pursuit of a little passion. Actually, if I'm being honest, more in pursuit of some dance floor equilibrium--to see if my white-girl hips could be taught to move like Tiffany's Latin hips.

Our first mistake may have been where we signed up for the classes. Because we're uber-budget, we decided to take them at the Los Angeles community college. We had high hopes for a sexy L.A-ish environment--you know, a gorgeous teacher, hardwood floors, surround-sound. But those hopes were dashed when we arrived on the dimly lit campus and followed the handwritten SALSA! signs to a basement classroom where a dozen or so other pursuers of passion were milling about on the linoleum.

Then our teacher walked in. She was Asian, about 55-years-old and wearing grey stretch pants with stirrups. She clapped her hands to start class and arranged us all in a circle. After a brief demonstration of some simple steps, she went around to give one-on-one attention to the couples.

"Who's going to lead?" she asked Tiffany and me.

"I will," we both answered.

Tiffany gave me a look.

"She will," I said, acknowledging her superior skills.

We were the only same-sex couple in the classroom although this didn't seem to put us at any disadvantage. Tiffany was a fine leader. The problem? I couldn't seem to follow.

"Okay, you try leading then," Tiffany said after I continued to try to anticipate her move so I could make it before she did.

"No, no," our stirrup-ed teacher said, giving us both a look. She pointed at Tiffany.

The class was every Saturday night for about a month and a half. During the week, Tiffany and I would push our furniture aside to practice, but the carpet in the living room really slowed us down. We moved our rehearsals to our galley kitchen where we navigated the three feet of space between our stove and our sink. Tiffany tried to help me learn how to follow without counting out loud.

We didn't go to our salsa class graduation party. But a few weeks later, when Tiffany's mom was in town, we took her to a tapas bar with live salsa dancing. When the professionals took a break, Tiffany pulled me onto the dance floor. And guess what we found?

We could, in our own way, dance.

*This post brought to by Chris, who suggested I write about the pursuit of passion, and Jessie, who suggested I write about dancing. To find out how you can suggest a post topic, click here.