It is the big dance event myself and a few of my fellow hapkido students have put together to raise money to buy new mats for our school. The Missus has come along early to help me set up and the Other Woman and the Other Woman Who Loves Other Women are also present. The coming together of the three women in my life is usually a recipe for some type of character assassination as they all swap notes on what an idiot I am and, true to form, the Missus and the Other Woman are soon in cahoots.
The Other Woman Who Loves Other Women, however, is otherwise engaged strutting her stuff on the dancefloor with a beautiful woman she’s turned up with and, quite frankly, the two of them are wonderful to watch. They have grace, they have poise, they have style and they look devastatingly sexy... In another life I am definitely coming back as a dancing lesbian.
Then the dance class part of the evening proper starts and me and the Missus are woefully bad so we retire to the bar with the Other Woman and laugh at how bad we are.
Then it strikes me... after 12 years and 279 days and 2 hours together I finally discover something that me and the Missus have in common. We may be poles apart in music, film, art, theatre, TV, literature and other interests but the thing that we have in common is that we are utterly useless at dancing. Douglas Barder (post-accident) would look more graceful with dancing shoes on.
It is a small triumph in a night of ballroom carnage.
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