I met my future wife one evening while I was having fun dancing at my local dance studio.
Before I go into any detail, I would like to provide some background for this wonderful event. Please bear with me.
Living as a single guy was quite natural for me for many years.
I enjoyed being on my own, working, learning my profession, participating in a few activities, collecting my thoughts when too many events happened at the same time, figuring out how to solve some problem when one came along, organizing my life just the way I wanted it to be, keeping track of everything I got involved in, and just doing what I wanted to do and when I wanted to do it.
Quite a lot of motions and emotions there.
I learned early on that I was the type of person that felt comfortable in a structured environment. I need things to be organized and, hopefully (concerning physical items) in the same place all the time so I don’t have to search for an item when I need it.
So, I spent time maintaining as much of an ordered existence as I could. [But note, I did NOT make sure that every chair or table was aligned with or perpendicular to the equator. Every item on my table did not have to be precisely in an exact, certain spot (although, close to that spot is nice). All of my shirts did not have to be arranged, without question, in a mathematically precise order.] I simply decided on certain places for things and some good arrangement for items and then tried to keep that setup intact.
Up until the age of twenty-eight, I spent my time working on my job, sometimes looking for work when the job ended, or studying. I did not socialize; I was way too inhibited (feeling poorly about myself) to try to meet other people in any social situation.
But one day, I realized that I was just “drifting” through life. I thought “This is not a good way to live. I must try in some way to force myself to change. I am tired of not living fully.”
So, I began reading a local magazine called Leisure Learning. That magazine had lists of social activities in it. For example, if someone wanted to learn French, someone in town might be advertising that he was giving French lessons. If someone wanted to learn how to repair car engines, there was usually a person who gave classes on that subject. Each class/lesson was quite reasonable in cost. It was a great magazine for several years, but for some reason, it stopped publishing.
Nevertheless, around the ages of twenty-eight and thirty, I found two activities that I felt were so totally out-of-character with me that I must try them. I would force myself to get out of my comfort environment. One activity was ice skating (what am I thinking?), and the other was dancing (am I crazy?).
My ice skating class lasted a couple of months, and I was hardly any better at standing up on the ice at the end of the class than I was at the beginning. But I liked the feeling of skating! So, I continued on my own for the next two years, watching the good skaters and trying to imitate them. I gradually learned how to be better. Succeeding or not in my attempts did not matter too much with me; I just enjoyed that “unusual” activity. I have continued, on and off, for more than thirty years now.
My first attempt at learning to dance happened at a perfect time (tongue-in-cheek). The class was disco, and disco was fading out of style. (You see, perfect timing.) But that was just as well; I was not a good student. When the class would slide right, for example, I would (in my confusion) slide left. My dance partner (who I had met in class) finally got so disgusted with me that she sat down during the class session. (Boy, that’s a confidence builder, eh?)
After that fiasco, I put the brakes on learning to dance for a while. But I still wanted to be able to ask a girl to do a social activity with me. And dancing still seemed as if it were the optimal way to have fun while doing something that took some skill. I needed a challenge with fun involved.
A note about my terminology: I use the term girl (meaning grown woman) only because to me it sounds nicer (younger) (less formal) than woman. No disrespect is intended.
After some months, I decided to try again at the activity that so many people seemed to be having fun with. I found some instruction somewhere (my memory is vacant about that), and after a while, I thought I had learned enough to try what I thought I had learned on a real dance floor (although my confidence was close to zero). I gingerly ventured out my first weekend night at a local C&W (Country and Western) place. The music was good, even if at that time, most of the songs were new to me. The atmosphere was okay. Lots of pretty girls (just waiting for someone to ask them to dance). I’m almost there. But not quite. A beer. That’s what I need. One longneck, please. Bolstered by the booze, I made my first move on a girl anxious to dance. She accepted my invitation. I don’t know how I thought I was going to actually dance to the rhythm of the song, but I was now moving along with my plan, propelled by my slightly diluted brain. Well, it was a struggle for me and a pain for her. The music seemed too fast for me. Too many dancers making me adjust my direction all too often, making me lose my timing each time. I don’t think I said anything to her over the music volume and my fear of failure to keep on the beat. Finally, the song ended, and she made a hasty retreat back to her seat. Needless to say, I felt that it would be useless to ask her to dance another song later.
I went to that place a few more times (I was desperate.), all with the same results. So, finally, I packed it in. Strike two. Disco: 1, Carl: 0. Dancing: 1, Carl: 0.
At some point in time, I shelled out the money and tried Arthur Murray Studios. I took C&W lessons for a couple of months. Then, without my understanding what was happening, my teacher began teaching me some ballroom steps. I thought that was odd, but who am I to question a professional instructor? When the light finally came on with me, I decided to quit the lessons. After all, I did not enjoy that type of (ballroom) dancing. She tried to persuade me to continue the lessons, but I did not accept her pleas.
More time passed. Then I found another “opportunity for light-footing it.” A married couple, Jack and Norma Larks taught five one-night classes in dancing. Each class was for a different type of dance. I didn’t care much for the first four dances, but the fifth one was Swing. That one pleased me. Jack and Norma are good teachers. I just didn’t care for the first four types of dances they were teaching.
And then finally, I found the teacher, Rick Archer (owner of the SSQQ Dance Studio), who taught in the same way that I wanted to learn (the only way I can learn). You see, I’m inhibited in my ability to learn any way other than slowly and step-by-step. Rick’s main assistant, Judy Price (an ace teacher in her own right), taught me a couple of levels of ballroom and several other types of dances during my time at the studio. I really didn’t care for ballroom, but I was willing to try once again to learn some (any) dance steps since I still had no social skill. The opportunity had arrived since the studio seemed comfortable, and the classes were greatly affordable.
During the time that I was taking my second level of ballroom classes, I learned about Swing (a.k.a., East Coast Swing) classes at the studio. Swing was what I had liked with Jack and Norma’s classes. That did it for me. Perhaps I could learn to dance with a type of dance that I liked. Sounds right. After the ballroom level ended, I did not try for a third level; instead, I enrolled in Swing – Level 1. From the start of class, I enjoyed the physical movements of the dance. And, of course, the songs were the ones I had grown up with (Rock and Roll). No slow ballroom songs for me, and no “hillbilly” country and western tunes either. [Later, when I tried C&W classes at the studio, I changed my opinion entirely about that music, mostly, in part, because the current C&W songs were up-tempo and lively. At any rate, I was wrong about the C&W music of time past.]
To make this long story a bit shorter, I took all of the Swing classes that Rick offered. I also took all of the C&W classes that were offered. I even took two levels of Cha Cha and a single level of a few “exotic” classes (like Tango and Mambo, for what that effort was worth). Those classes were spread over a couple of years. In my second year of classes, I started taking Whip lessons. Today, tamer versions of Whip movements are taught as West Coast Swing (not the lively East Coast Swing that I mentioned earlier). Whip was harder to learn than any of the above types of dances, but it was the flashiest of any of the dances. The girls can really shine with quick, eye-catching movements. The guy’s job is just to lead the girl into each pattern. “The girl shines; the guy is just there” might be the way Whip can be described.
Altogether, I took classes for four years. I then took a break from all of it for a few months. After I had rested from the mental workout of writing notes and trying to remember patterns, I resumed going back to the studio, but just for the dance parties.
It was at one of those parties that I met Angi, my future wife. Please see my page My Personal Life for more references to Angi.
My method of operation at a dance was to ask as many girls as I could to dance with me. That enabled me to meet girls and to keep my skill level up (since different girls have different physical motions and slightly different rhythms when they dance).
As I looked around one evening for another partner, I saw a nice-looking, pretty girl standing with a couple of her friends. Good figure, pleasant expression, right height. Check, check, check. Ah, good. Someone new. I walked over and asked her if she cared to dance to the song that was playing. She hesitated for a moment but then said okay. We danced around the large room, among all the other dancers, and enjoyed the music. By this time, my confidence with dancing was high (remember, four years of classes and more than a dozen years of practicing). I could still feel a bit nervous sometimes, but mostly, I was okay with any of the dance steps I had learned.
I was still not very good at initiating conversations (that has never been easy for me). But I knew I needed to say something while we were on the dance floor. My mind was mostly blank about current activities or fashions or swimwear or whatever. Pretty much a void there. But, as things happen by the grace of God, I had recently heard a song by a Czechoslovakian musician named Béla Fleck. He plays great banjo. I had bought one of his CD’s and listened to it, and I liked it. So, while I agonized to try to say something other than about the weather, his name came to me. And, since he played music and since we were dancing, I put two and two together and decided to mention him. Angi replied that she had heard of him too and also had some of his CD’s. I couldn’t believe it! Not only was I off the hook with trying to come up with some sparkling conversation, but I had met someone I had something in common with; something easy to talk about and someone easy to talk with. Praise the Lord. He does move in mysterious ways.
We finished our conversation as the song was ending (or, our conversation ended because the song had ended). I thanked Angi for dancing with me. I can’t remember if I had a chance to ask her again that evening for another dance, but the party ended later, and everyone went home.
I attended another one or two weekend dances, each evening looking for that new girl in my life. And then, one night I spotted her. Something was going on inside me; I didn’t know what. I just knew I needed to pursue the feeling. I walked over to her and mentioned that we had danced a couple of weeks before. Would she care to dance again? She accepted, and that started our lives intertwining.
I didn’t wait too many times before I asked Angi to go out with me on a real date; that is, one with dinner and (maybe dancing?). We started going out together more and more, enjoying movies or cultural events.
It took me a while longer (actually, four years), but I finally proposed to her. Waiting in anticipation for her to say yes on the night I asked her to marry me, drained me. Why didn’t she respond immediately? What was she thinking about? Had I made a mistake and waited too long? The agony was killing me. Finally, she said yes! Several emotions swirl in my head here.
We have been married for fourteen years now, and life has been great. We have lots of friends, and we both keep active with each of our own hobbies and things that we do together.
P.S.
As a follow-up note, Angi never joined me on the ice.