I looked like I was dressed to be on “Dancing With the Stars,” the ambiguously gay edition.
A bright red shirt with some chest hair popping out, tight black slacks, and black italian slip-on shoes.
Yes, a german Jew trying to look Argentinean is an act I just don’t think I can pull off.
I guess I was supposed to look like this:
But instead, I think I was a bit more reminiscent of this:
I had no one else to blame other than myself.
Eons ago I told my girlfriend (GF) I would take dancing lessons with her, and apparently she remembered. (Damn you woman and your brain like device!)
So, here I am, walking around the Adams Morgan/Dupont area looking like I stepped right out of the movie Birdcage, knowing that there was a 90% chance I was going to have my “man” card revoked.
GF told me I looked hot. This is also the same girl who thinks I look hot when the only thing I’m wearing is a pair of tube socks, so she’s either biased, or needs to get her eyes checked out. Either way, I was screwed.
Screwed because I was about to head into a private argentinean tango class, and GF is going to break up with me when she discovers that I dance like Urkel.
The moment we walk into the “studio” (aka some dude’s apartment with all the furniture pushed to the walls) – I start sweating…… profusely. I try to look calm.
“Oh honey, you look a little warm. Are you ok?”
NO I AM NOT OK, WOMAN! I AM ABOUT TO BE BANNED FROM EVERY SPORTS BAR AND HOOTERS NATIONWIDE.
After this, the grocery store will probably only allow me to buy wine coolers, bars will only serve me strawberry daiquiris, and tomorrow morning I’m going to wake up with a “Dear John” letter from my testicles.
Fuck.
Before we begin, the instructor takes one look at me and says, “Do you need a drink?”
Hmmm this guy doesn’t seem so bad….
So, after we all do a shot, the lesson begins. Our first task involves GF and I walking around the room to music. It’s kinda like musical chairs, only without the chairs part.
This isn’t too bad, I can handle walking
After doing this stuff for a while, we learn about how to hold each other. I got into a bit of trouble though, as apparently it is not proper tango form to keep grabbing GF’s ass.
Rockstep, step step stop step bang ouch step step rockstep stop bang ouch step step FUCK step step bang step Let-GO-of-my-ASS slap step step *end of song*
So, since I’m handling this stuff without causing any major organ damage, the instructor gets all advanced on our asses. He goes into all sorts of things like side stepping, crossovers, and banana hammocks. Or was that grapevines?
The next little while is a blur, the only things I remember are having a teddy bear shoved under my armpit, and standing in front of the mirror with the instructor showing me how to “keep straight.”
Yeah, sorry buddy, I’m having a little problem feeling “straight” at the moment.
As it turns out, it wasn’t all that bad – here’s how I define the Tango: A dance where the guy basically stands around a looks cool, while the girl does all the work.
Apparently God was smiling down on me when I blindly chose Tango…. if I had said something like Salsa or Merengue (isn’t that some sort of pie??) I would have been severely fucked.
The next day, in an email to GF, the instructor wrote that we were one of those “rare talented couples.”
Talented? I dunno about that, I just think he was excited that we signed up for the 10 week private lesson package.
