If you're a non-dancer, or maybe a new dancer, you might not understand the gravity of this situation. However... if you are an addict... you will understand the horror this holds.
I first 'discovered' salsa approximately four years ago. However, due to a variety of reasons that are particularly unimportant, I didn't end up really becoming addicted until two years later. A further year and a half to the now-present day, and I dance a minimum of four days a week. Now, that's just salsa. I've also began discovering other kinds of social dance, including swing.
But let's take that back in time, now that you've got the general timeline of my addiction, and an at-least vague idea of the severity of this affliction. My first salsa class... well, it was awkward. I was not an individual who walked in with amazing rhythm, musicality, and adeptness on the dance floor. I was an almost-never dancer with terrible hip action. In fact, it was so abysmal that it took me about two years to conquer the basic step! But I do remember one thing... there was a guy.
Now, this guy shouldn't have been in the "beginner" class. He had, after all, been dancing for years. I still dance with him to this day, though I don't think he has an actual comprehension of just how much he affected my journey into the salsa world. He gave me this brief glimpse into what real social dancing felt like - the kind you discover once you've passed the awkward two-step phase.
He would spin me, and during those spins I'd be damn well terrified. He has a ... strong ... lead. One that, over time, I would come to realize gets even stronger and slightly more violent after imbibing le alcohol. Actually, sometimes your feet even leave the ground. That's just another kind of special.
Anyways, back to the story. He was my first inspiration. I decided that I wanted to be able to dance like people with him. So, I kept with my basics and practiced in my living room until I was finally legal age and could therefore go out social dancing. Let this also be a lesson to you men out there:
Nothing.... absolutely NOTHING.... is more attractive than a man who can move (provided he isn't creepy about it. More on that later). So learn, and learn well. We will crumble at your feet into a pile of really hormonally-charged goo.
