Back in the day, dancing with a partner meant “slow dancing.” We’d either rock to the Stones (or later, the Talking Heads or the B-52’s) without touching another human being, or when Stairway to Heaven played, we’d hold onto our partner and awkwardly rock back and forth.

Nobody ever taught me how to actually dance with another person.

Whenever I’ve tried to swing around a dance floor with a partner, I’ve felt stiff and inept. I don’t follow well; giving up control of the direction of my movements - or of anything in my life! - feels unnatural, and only now as I’m entering the last year of my fifth decade am I starting to let go. There’s not all that much we can actually control, so we might as well enjoy the ride.

And enjoy it I did when I took a ballroom dancing lesson.