Moving on… in salsa
How long has it been, 3 months now, that I’ve been dancing on 2? The timeline is skewed- like women lying about their age, it’s better to perpetually say 3 months so guys don’t expect much from you and fling you around the floor like an orbiting satellite crashing to earth. I think it’s somewhere close to three months. Here’s a salsa update:
- Still obsessed. Bianca and I are dragging JPLogan back down with us. Bra-ha ha!
- Retired the heels for an elegant lower (still feminine) pair so I don’t feel like an AT-ST being jostled by Ewoks.
- Finding my own… one teacher who has been trying to correct a bounce I have in my steps has resigned that it is “just my style” and plans to include it in his choreography. I should ask him to call it the Nova (our salsa vocab is now 3 words: the Nova, the fire hydrant and the BJ Dive).
- Partners come and go… don’t get your salsa thumping heart attached.
- In the spirit of true Sinvergüenza, JPLogan, Bianca and I danced salsa in a synagogue, Deity Lounge, now bar/lounge in Brooklyn. Priest, synagogue…what else is left in this blasphemous dance? (I hear the veterans laughing while shaking their heads: poor, innocent girl..)
- As I was practicing by myself at a social last night, Bianca’s fire hydrant guy swooped my arm up in the middle of a song and started dancing with me. The song was almost over, and his body language was not threatening, so I didn’t fight for my hand back. Never, never have I danced with a guy that instead of facing me, spent the entire time looking at himself in the mirror as if his reflection was his partner. I was this little ornament on his arm, like a piece of jewelry he was enjoying looking at himself wear. This is narcissism to an extreme degree, true to its etymological roots, Narcissus . Luckily it lasted all of 1.5 minutes.
- I have been told that I am being held back a grade in salsa school. That’s okay, soon I’m transferring hands to a new teacher so he wants me to feel his style for awhile.
- I’m consulting the salsera oracle, grandma, to see if she can help me find the pulse of the 2’s and 6’s that are alluding me. My offering to the great oracle? A six-pack of bud-light.
