Up Close and Personal

As I arrived at Destination Salsa, the same lady who the week earlier had told me, somewhat dramatically, “dance will change your life”, was there to take the £5 that public humiliation costs these days.

Salsabum sat by my side strapping on her new 3” toeless sandals. This was a sure sign that the anti had been upped and that I was once again going to be the slowest and shortest of the rhythmically challenged that evening.

One hour later, Salsabum realised that the toeless sandals were a mistake and that her trainers had been a much more effective buffer to my uncoordinated hooves. Despite the whole bleeding toe thing, it was a definite improvement on last week. We even got an approving glance from the teacher.

As the routine took a seductively cheeky turn, our friendship was pushed to a new and uncomfortable level. Generally, I tend not to spend much time nose to nose with my friends in impassioned headlocks so was grateful for the Extra Strong Mints I carry for emergencies such as these. By embrace number thirty, I was sensing Salsabum’s ardour was waning. Wondering if she no longer found me attractive, I popped another breath mint.

Despite still not being anywhere even vaguely close to competent by the end of the class, it had been very amusing. After calculating a potential 100 calorie loss, I headed straight to the bar for a choccie top up and then went to watch the ballroom in the main hall.

When our teachers joined us, I took the opportunity to earn ourselves some dancing points by making Salsabum buy them alcohol. I’m hoping the gesture has assured my place on the salsa sidelines and I will now never know the feeling of being tugged into the middle to demonstrate my shocking ungainliness.