Disasters in Dancing

Best Friend Boy is the best dancer I know.

I used to dislike partner dancing pretty strongly. The first time a boy tried to teach me to swing dance, he stopped the lesson to specifically say, "Just relax. I'll take care of everything."

But I couldn't relax. Yeah, I have been in fourteen musicals, but I was never cast for my beautiful dancing. I'm not one of those people blessed with natural bodily awareness. I have to think really hard to get my body to do anything even vaguely resembling a dance. So to relax while dancing is hard for me.

Well, Best Friend Boy changed all that. I can usually relax when I dance with him. He's great at leading me through the dance and doing the heavy lifting (metaphorically and less metaphorically). All I have to do is smile (musical theatre habits die hard) and try not to step on my own feet.

A few months ago, Best Friend Boy and I met up at Hometown High's annual swing event.

It's always a good time, this swing event. Some people dress up quite lavishly for it.

I decided to dress in a sort of business-casual style. For footwear, I considered the merits of heels, sneakers, and flats...and chose flats.

It was good that I didn't wear heels but bad that I didn't wear sneakers. For as it turned out, the flats had no traction. The soles were, indeed, flat. As I soon discovered when Best Friend Boy twirled me over the Hometown High dance floor and I promptly fell over.

"Too fast," Best Friend Boy said, and adjusted his speed accordingly.

The rest of the night went well...until Best Friend Boy proposed we do some kicks. He taught me how. We started off slowly, and then the music went into double time.

Best Friend Boy's legs also went into double time. Not about to be outdone, I cried, "I can keep up with you!"

But my flats couldn't. As I kicked my left leg, my left shoe flew from my foot and hit a couple dancing beyond us.

Best Friend Boy, always the conscientious dance partner, ran to get my shoe while I sank to the dance floor in laughter.

It was mortifying and hilarious at the same time. I suppose we could call it mortiflarious.

Or actually, not. I really don't want to make that a thing.