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My wife
discouraged my early dancing efforts when she turned her
back and marched off the floor. The message was, “As a
dancer you’re hopeless.” For the next thirty three years I
didn’t have the nerve to risk such humiliation again. She
died and left me with a second chance to dance.
With trepidation I thumbed the Yellow Pages and found Dance
Discovery, the only social dance school listed in the city.
I stalked the studio to assess the venue and build courage.
Twice I stopped by and twice I lost nerve. Finally I phoned
to inquire about openings for new students. A man’s voice
told me to stop by for a complementary lesson. I inquired
concerning the number of instructors available and he
informed me that he did all of the teaching. Dancing with a
“guy” was not my idea of euphoria.
I drove to my lesson harbouring an anxiety not unlike that
of my dog’s when I take her to the vet. Ahead of me lay an
emotional abyss. I glanced around to make sure that no one
would recognize me slipping through the doors of a dance
studio. My feet felt like lead as I pulled myself up the
stairs.
The programme and policies were explained and I completed a
questionnaire of my experiences. When the instructor assumed
the position of a dance partner my stomach dropped but my
arms went up and I thought, “Here it goes!”
It wasn’t that bad after all. I was so intent upon the
“slow, slow, quick, quick” pattern of the foxtrot that all
of my homophobic preconceptions vanished.
The following Friday night was a group lesson for enrolled
students and I danced with a woman who would soon become my
new wife. We continue to take weekly lessons, dance on
weekends wherever we can, and she has never walked off of
the dance floor and left me standing alone.
Fred Meyer
Eagle Bay, B.C.
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