And yet another entry on an event that is starting to become a central part of my life – ballroom dancing lessons.

JV came over to my place a bit early, so we ended up spending some time in front of the bathroom mirror fixing lip-gloss, hair and all such girly beautifying things. This cumulated into us leaving for the class about ten minutes later than usual, and DD stopping for petrol along the way did not abate our increasing panic about getting there late. (What usually happens when the girls arrive late is that there aren’t enough guys to go around – which means dancing not with a muscled blond hottie, but with one of the old fogey dancing instructors with wrinkled leathery hands.)

Sadly, this turned out to be the case; though JV got herself a dancing partner (lucky bitch!) and I got stuck with wrinkled old woman. Great. As we started making our agonisingly slow way around the circle (not only did I end up spending way too long dancing with the oldie, but I got stuck on the not-so-hot side of the hall as well), I scanned the room surreptitiously for any signs of Jake. Seeing none so far, I start to panic. How could he not be there?? The hot guy who is rapidly becoming my main reason to look forward to ballroom dancing lessons?? Fortunately for me, he turned up about half an hour later. Looking as gorgeous as always, I might add… He got plonked halfway around the room from me and let me tell you how much it pissed me off when my current partner and I got moved back because the non-hottie was kicking the dude in front of him! Then just as I was getting closer to him there is a blockage in the circle because some of the girls weren’t moving to their next partner and I got moved back again. Fan-frickin-tabulous.

All too soon it was the mid-lesson break and I hadn’t gotten a chance to dance with Jake. I tottered along to find JV and grab myself a cookie. We’re joined by C, G and various other people, including B with her fixation with John’s arse. (“Have you seen his arse? I was staring at it all through the Nutbush and it is absolutely perfect, I swear!”) I spot John, Jake and a few less hot guys a few metres away, not surrounded by a group of girls – just our luck! (In a good way of course.) I urge our little group to go over and talk to them – hell, I’m not going to pass up a chance to talk to Jake! B is mortified and runs away when we try to drag her along. The rest of us approach them, and the first thing Jake says is “Hi [insert my name here, I’m still not going to tell you…].” Aargh!!! He knows my name!! And he doesn’t proceed to say “Hi C, hi G, hi …” whoever, which means he’s not just the type of guy who remembers everyone’s names either!! Of course he could just be thinking I’m totally ugly and feels sorry for me and that’s the reason he’s known my name even before I got to learn his, but let’s try not to think about that… The rest of the conversation in our new little group gets awkward and dries up and John wanders away – that’s NICE of him – but I don’t care. Jake knows who I am! Without knowing who everyone else is too!

(B reckons Jake is a bit stuck up but I don’t notice it at all. I think he’s damn fine, as you know all too well… Meanwhile Loserboy, as in Loserboy who has asked R out four times and has been rejected four times – get the hint, dammit – asked me what I was doing on the weekend. Which was really scary. And then I got stuck with him during the waltz and he was bragging about having his L plates and it was starting to get uncomfortably conversational for my liking!)

The rest of the lesson passes in a frenzy – we’re doing the progressive barn dance and the music is getting more and more frenetic as I spin, spin, spin to the next partner, about to fall off my heels but just catching my balance in time and feeling the tension and excitement in the room build up and rise to an exhilarating crescendo until we’ve all got a manic look in our eyes and the music comes to a crashing end. By this time we are all completely hyper and the boys gather in the centre of the room and start jumping up and down singing/chanting/yelling the school cheer. It’s suddenly turned into a mosh pit and the rest of us in heels are backing as far away as possible so as not to get trodden on. JV, L and I decide to go join the boys in their strange bonding ritual but cannot manage to find an opening among the sea of male testosterone. Oh well, it was worth a try …

We left pretty much straight away which was a darn shame because everyone else was still in there talking and laughing and going crazy. Apparently the dancing instructors had to resort to turning the lights out to get them out of the hall. Which cracked me up.

Next week’s the social night, where we get to pick our partners and our music. I can’t wait.

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