Thursday 28 June 2007

Bertie can dance!

Last night I had to finally bite the bullet, bury the hatchet, wear the wellies and whatever else you do and I fulfilled an age old promise to Mrs B3N and went to Salsa dancing lessons. It’s become a bone of contention between us lately, especially at social functions where she loves to dance and I don’t. It’s not that I have the, Salsa dancing is gay and I’m just going to sit here and drink fifty pints, manly male response to everything other than sitting there and drinking fifty pints, and it’s not that I don’t have rhythm or don’t like the music, I can play several musical instruments and have a huge appreciation for all music (except Country), it’s just that what I see as dancing, other people see as the maniacal gyrations of a mentally traumatised baboon, on crack. And so it was that at a recent wedding were all she had to make do with was the dance floor antics of a drunken uncle and so that she would not hassle me to dance for the rest of the night, I made a promise to her that I would go to Salsa Lessons.
I fought it right up to the point where we went upstairs in one of my locals (where the lessons were being held), hoping that none of the lads were going to be at the bar, with teenage tantrums of ‘I’m Not Going!’. The first thing I noticed in the class was the severe lack of men, I made up one hundred percent of the paying male clientele. This, I later heard is endemic of salsa lessons throughout the country. I felt like the Sultan of Borneo with his harem, loads of lovely ladies queuing up to dance with ME! Finally, I thought, Karma has seen a way to pay me back for all of those rejections in the No-Name Club when I was a spotty teenager. It didn’t matter that I had just started, only knew two steps, had more left feet than Lefty the Left Footed Leftipede and spent all of the dance looking at my feet, the ladies were just delighted that they didn’t have to be men (in the Salsa sense) for the night. YES, I was a Dancing GOD!!! This has got to be one of Irelands best kept secrets so lads, forget I said anything, Salsa IS gay, ladies, I’ll see you next week!

10 comments:

Anonymous said...

I thought there was a law written in stone somewhere that says that no man over the age of 30 should EVER dance?

Unless he's p*ssed, or at a wedding?

Anonymous said...

Way to tune into your feminine side!!! I'm not laughing AT you, I'm laughing... BESIDE you. I always wanted to learn how to dance the tango, like Pacino and yer wan in 'Scent of a Woman'. I'll never get me fella to lessons though, he's just like you.

*mentally traumatised baboon, on crack* hee hee hee hee :)

Anonymous said...

Grandad:I really wish that law was in force and the most you'll get out of me at a wedding is airguitaring on the table with me tie tied as a headband. One time I even waited for the meal to finish!

K8:One way to get him to salsa would be to learn yourself with a mate then dance with her in front of him. MrsB3N is a very accomplished salsa dancer, she looks great when she dances and it worked for me!

Anonymous said...

"One way to get him to salsa would be to learn yourself with a mate then dance with her in front of him"

That wouldn't work with our K8. Her fella would be too wrapped up in the Playstation to notice.

Anonymous said...

He's not a real man at all then!

Anonymous said...

He is too!!! He even wears my underwear to prove he's not afraid of his feminine side. If there was a dance where you could incorporate paintballing I might get him interested.

I wonder is there a game where you can learn the tango on the playstation? Hmmm.

Anonymous said...

Very funny. I love that you even gave it a go. Fair play to ya !

Anonymous said...

You can get the playstation dancemat, it'll only be a matter of time when they bring out the tango add-on.

Thank you anonymous person, whoever you are.

Bock the Robber said...

You gave me the confidence to give it a try. Almost.

Megan McGurk said...

Men who make the effort to dance are brave. The wimps with the pints jeering are just feeling threatened or incompetant. No one expects Fred Astaire, just a willingness to try.
That said, Mr. M would never go to a dance class with me, so good for you for taking the plunge.