Why are my palms sweating? This is a terrible idea. I can’t believe I’m doing this! I must be crazy. Maybe I’ll just leave and never come back. No one will ever know and at least I won’t have to watch Home and Away on 7 Catch up. But I’m here and I have wanted to do this for ages, and if I do this I will never have to go to the gym. What if Alf really does die of a heart attack..? That’s it, I can’t do this. I’m going home.

 

Take two. I’ve been thinking about it all week… and I don’t mean Alf’s heart attack. I’m still just as nervous as I was last week. But here I am again sitting in my car waiting to get up the courage, sweaty palms and all. I have to go in. I have to! I can see through the window, I can see them in there. I think someone has seen me. Oh no, I have to go in now. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Then I walk through the doors and in to a world I never knew.

 

‘The first step we are going to learn is the basic.’

Oh no.

‘One more time.’

Good.

‘Again.’

Yep, I need to do it a few more times.

‘Left foot forward…. Other left.’

Why don’t I know my left from my right?!

‘One more time.’

I’ve got it.

‘Thanks everyone, see you next week.’

Phew. I made it.

 

Terrified is probably the best word to describe how most people feel before they walk into a dance class for the first time. Absolutely terrified. And I get it. I once did a six week pole dancing course and I have never been so terrifyingly uncomfortable in my life. I really should have gone a size up in those hot pants!

But soon enough the walls of the building and the people who are there start to look a lot friendlier, you become more comfortable and before you know it you are dancing! Or moving your feet to the music. Or maybe just moving your feet. It doesn’t matter no one is judging you, they’ve all been through the same thing. Except for the guy whose wife lied to him about going to a gig and ended up at a dance class..? He wasn’t too happy about it in the beginning but he’s come around and now he’ll even turn up to class on his own!

Meet Gary.

Gary is 42, he works as a Graphic designer for a semi large/semi important marketing joint in the city. He is married to the love of his life, they have three kids, a mortgage and Kia Sportage. Date night is usually a 5pm kids dinner at the RSL or watching the footy with a bottle of wine (and by wine I mean a fancy craft beer). So when his wife decided she wanted them to take dance lessons it wasn’t just a matter of getting a baby sitter, whacking on her favourite date night outfit and shaving her legs, she was going to have to pull out the big guns. She was going to have to tell a little white lie.

‘There’s a Jimmy Barnes tribute night at Kindered Studio’s this Tuesday. Do you want to go?’

‘Yeah righto.’

‘I’ll see if my sister can watch the kids.’

‘Great. What time?’

‘Starts at 7pm.’

Part one of operation ‘get Gary to a dance class’ complete. Now all she had to do was get him to actually dance…

And that was the easy part once Gary walked through the doors and realised there was no Jimmy Barnes impersonator (is there even a Jimmy Barnes impersonator out there…), and he was in fact at his first dance class there was no turning back. He could have walked out but that would have been rude and he figured he had a whole hour with his wife without the kids, he got to be the boss (just for one hour) and it didn’t cost him a cent (insert first class is free link – maybe sign up details). The bloke who was teaching the class was friendly and pretty fit looking, he didn’t have an accent or his pants pulled up to his waist. He looked normal and so did most people there. This wasn’t going to be that bad, and he might even be good at it. He thought about all the times he had tried to carve it up on the dancefloor and all that his feet would allow him to do was a simple step touch. This is more commonly known as the ‘Husband dance’. Gary took a deep breath and followed his wife on to the floor, he looked down at his feet and pleaded with them to do as they were told. Then…

‘The first step we are going to learn is the basic.’

Oh no.

The First Dance…

The hardest part is walking in the door. Yes it’s terrifying! Yes you’ll feel uncomfortable and yes everyone feels the same way.  But learning to do something you’ve never done before is so much better than sitting on the couch watching Alf Stuart go off at some kid at the surf club for being a flaming galah!

Be like Gary, be brave, and take the first step.