- November 25, 2024
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I’m getting married on March 11.
Am I slightly intimidated at the prospect of being with someone for the remainder of my life? Maybe, but there’s one thing in particular that really has me shaking in my black Men’s Warehouse dress shoes: the first dance.
In theory, the first dance between a husband and wife sounds like a great idea. It’s a special moment that we get to share together in front of our friends and family. In a way, it’s similar to when the husband kisses his bride for the first time. It connects us.
But here’s the thing: I’m a klutz. I have two left feet. Simply put, I can’t dance!
I do have a sense of rhythm. I played guitar for nearly 10 years. But when it comes to my feet, I’m like that one guy at church who claps off-beat while the congregation sings.
Every. Single. Time.
Yes, I knew all these things about myself before my fiancé and I agreed to do a first dance, but the gravity of my situation didn’t hit me until I took my first dance lesson exactly two weeks before the big day.
For two whole hours, my soon-to-be wife and I grapevined, shimmied and fox-trotted to Frank Sinatra’s “Fly Me to
the Moon.” I even wore a stylish black fedora to look the part.
My fiancé looked great. (Of course, I would say that even if she didn’t.)
Me, on the other hand? I don’t think I’ll be featured on “Dancing With the Stars” anytime soon.
Ever seen a spider on roller skates? That’s probably the best way to describe my erratic, spastic movements.
Needless to say, when I see the woman of my dreams walking down the aisle, the butterflies in my stomach won’t be flittering about because of the prospect of marriage. It’ll be because of what’s to come later: surely the most embarrassing dance performance of all time.
Sorry, babe.
