Salsa Dip

I love to dance; always have. Ever since I can remember, music has moved me to move my body.

A few weeks ago, in a drunk moment and because there is no such thing as better judgment in my world, I agreed to join a Salsa dancing class with a couple of neighbours. I figured what the hell, what was the worst that could happen? That tends to be my attitude toward most things,(which gets amplified exponentially in direct proportion to how much I've had to drink). What I didn't ask myself, however, was what was the best that could happen?

Well, okay, so I haven't yet been headhunted for Riverdance, but it could still happen...I'm only... fuck me, I'm 38! How the hell did THAT happen???

Anyway, never mind all that; here's what is happening: I'm loving it! I'm exercising for an hour and not even noticing. I'm working my body and sweating and laughing and generally having a good time without the aid of alcohol or men. Imagine that! For those of you who don't know me, I resent any sweating that doesn't lead directly to orgasm. I just don't like the way it feels.

Somehow, this is different. Dancing is fun; sensual and sexy. It's a lot like sex actually; especially in that doing it makes me happy to be alive. We salsa, mambo, samba and generally shake our asses to such hip tunes as Mac the Knife and Time of my Life. We take turns being "the man". We laugh at each other and ourselves and our incredibly neurotic instructor (who tells us EVERY week that SHE's the TEACHER and Joan is the HELPER). As they say here, it's great gas altogether.

Best fifty euros I've spent in a long time.