A Little Soft-Shoe Gentle Sway

As you may have gathered, we are not having a traditional wedding. Well, let me rephrase that: we are having a traditional wedding in the sense that we are retaining all the important elements of the marriage rite that connect us to our religious and cultural heritage. We are not retaining a good portion of the frivolities that come with the matrimonial industrial complex such as cake cutting, wedding parties, DJs with microphones and the chicken dance.

However for some reason, which neither one of us can remember, we kept the "first dance". Probably because it truly is a first dance, since Emerson and I have never danced together. Ever. That's not how we roll.

But nothing we do is ever easy. Our song is not a Bryan Adams pop ballad; it is Gershwin tune from an obscure 50s movie musical starring Bob Fosse, so two dudes swaying back and forth with their hands on each others' hips like they're dancing to "Yesterday" in the gym at their junior prom ain't gonna cut it.

Enter Yuliya...

Last week we sucked it up and laid out a hunk of cash to Yuliya, a Ukrainian baby doll who is going to teach us how to Foxtrot and choreograph a little routine for us. It'll be like if Pasha danced with Dmitry, only if Pasha and Dmitry were ten years older, 40 pounds heavier and didn't know how to dance. If we were in front of the judges, Mary Murphy would be like: "The way you're moving into your moves like your fall-away split pivot over-spin into your throw-away? Is it working for me? No, it isn't. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to kick you off the hot tamale train."

Anyway, as you can imagine, there are, um, problems. Mostly with Emerson. First of all, I know a thing or two about Dance. I took ballroom dance classes in college and used to go salsa dancing in grad school (read "used to go" as "went once"). Emerson, on the other hand, has two gigantic left feet. So with my loads of experience and Emerson's lack of talent, I am a natural choice to lead.

But all of you astute readers out there are saying "Wait a sec! If you lead, doesn't that mean Emerson has to follow?!" Oh yes, boys and girls. It does. And I'm not convinced Emerson has followed anything in his life. Instructions. Directions. The clearly marked trails in the woods. Yuliya is not convinced either. We're trying to practice our one-two-quick-quicks and he's dragging me around, looking over his shoulder, paranoid that I'm going to dance him into a chair. And I just might do if he continues to be such a bad dancer.

So if we survive these dance lessons which are clearly a metaphor for our relationship vis a vis trust, control, communication and compatibility, we will have an awesome first dance. If not, one of us will clearly end up dead.