Thursday, 30 May 2013

Love Story Continued............................

Having told you about my first love, and the dancing, I have received questions that I am compelled to answer regarding how my neighbor and I danced, what we danced to and how we danced to it. I will tell how why I danced for four years and a couple of months and why I don’t dance any more as you have been unable to ask me this directly. Many of you have probably heard of the waltz. This is ball room romantic dance for couples. The steps are articulated in great sequence, the music is arranged delicately and the ballroom gown is every so fascinating. Big and round, but not heavy, the cosset at the mid section around the waist ever so feminine, tight but not uncomfortable, the layers of lacing and satin, a fragile work of art. The colour chosen to blend with the wearer’s skin tone. How I loved to dance to the waltz….

Before September 2008, I was not much of a dancer; I was the one person my girl friends would count on to watch their tiny purses when we went out in the evening. Dancing had never been a thing for me; I enjoyed to watch people dance but did not care much for it. I always did a few dignified steps whenever I was forced to. For instance when a gentle man grabbed me as I would be making my way across the dance floor to the “ladies”. Those of you who have been to Cats Club at the Safari Park Hotel and Casino know very well what I am trying to say. Other times when my very few, counted and practiced steps came in handy were, when I attended close friend’s weddings and when I was a guest at fundraisers and other traditional ceremonies in my village.

The waltz however, came naturally for me. When he put his arm around me, pressed me to his breast, cavorted with me in the shameless, decent whirling-dance of the Germans, we had engaged in a familiarity that broke all the boundaries that I created. My silent lack of interest in dance turned into the burning desire to waltz forever. I am yet to decide whether it was the dance or my partner at the dance that made the dance so easy and so passionate for me, maybe my partner had other intentions, and well he won whatever his intentions were.

The waltz is a sliding and or gliding dance. It dates back to the 16th century and is said to have originated from Austria. The dancers hold each other so closely that their faces touch. It follows an instinctive knowledge of the weight of fall, utilizes surplus energy to press all of one’s strength into the proper beat of the measure, thus intensifying the personal enjoyment in dancing. It is a dance for couples who are very comfortable with each other. The waltz allows people to dance mad, but, also allows the women to be celebrated because of their movements and grace of which they never tire. I was one such woman.

That night he a wearing black suit, a well pressed white shirt and a black bow tie to finish of his attire. His shoes had been well polished and I could see my reflection on them. I wore a purple ball room gown which he had picked out for me. I had silver shoes to match. The length of the heel a little off the ground but comfortable enough for me to dance. My hair had been freshly done and I wore it up in a tight bow at the back of my head. It was pinned up to precision to ensure not a single strand would leave it rightful place. I was smart, I felt smart, similar to food served on a platter and garnished to seduce the masters test buds.

I was anxious, I had been to ball rooms before but this particular one, I was going be the center of attention. My neighbor had been invited to grace an event that had the ballroom theme. He was going to be the chief guest at a highly sophisticated even and had chosen me to be his date. We were still very young in our knowledge of each other. In fact, when he had first asked me to this even, I had given him a straight no for an answer. Well, let us just say, I went to the dance.

I will be totally honest with you, I had practiced a few ballroom dance steps because the neighbor had been kind enough to let me know way in advance that we would open the dance floor given that he was the chief guest. I bought a tutorial CD and would practice my dancing with my friends in my house as we laughed at ourselves. My friends kept wondering why I had gone through all that trouble for a man I barely knew. They would wink at me every time we would meet on the stairs, they would call his name in a manner to tease me. I would deny having any feelings for him, the truth said in whispers, was that I had fallen head over heels and was just now going with the flow.

That night, when it was time to open the dance floor, I stood with all the grace within me, I was asked to choose a song that would open the dance to honor me. I will not tell which one because I still listen to that song, repeatedly but I would not want to be teased about it. I think it is actually the only classical music CD that I own. He held me close to his heart, his grip so firm but not uncomfortable, his breath fresh, his cologne was masculine but not choking .I stood there, right in front of him, his one arm around my waist and me the same and the other held out, not too high though, his lips were close to mine as he was looking right into my face. He was taller than I am, and his height was just perfect as we had chosen the right heel to cover for the difference, allowing him to be about three to four inches taller than me.

The pianist pressed a key with a deep tone, an indication that the music would begin immediately. In that position, ever so close, he leaned forward and told me to remind his to stop. I nodded in response, still looking for the right words that seemed to have escaped me. In no time, we were gliding and dancing ourselves crazy on the dance floor, the rest of the guests stood around us at a safe distance, giving us room to delve into the more intricate areas of waltzing. This involved turning lifting and much more as I had done my practice really well. After about 10minutes, still dancing as the center of attraction I looked at him and gave him the cue to stop. We continued dancing for a few seconds before we stopped with him raising his hand for the music to stop. There was a loud round of applause and a lot of bowing. This was followed by him inviting everyone else to the dance floor and thanking me for allowing him to have the first dance with me.

After that night, we would waltz even in the house. It was common to find us waltzing I the supermarket. We loved to shop late in the night and this would allow us to have the time to waltz and to shop at the same time. This waltzing came as a package with him referring to me as “my lady” and me referring to him as “my lord” as we asked each other for a dance. Many times, we would dress up for the dance even at home. Many of our friends actually learnt the dance from us as it was the best entertainment we ever provided whenever we were hosting.

I have extensively dealt with how I danced, why I danced was simple. It was because I had learnt that dancing was a unique way of expressing one self. It would express joy, love, romance, it could be used to seduce and most importantly express anger without making faces or raising one’s voice. From my dancing, he could tell I was unhappy and me the same. It was an art so fashionable and so loud to be ignored.

I will in another posting, tell you about the second person I fell with.I refer to him as my confused childhood friend.....yo will certainly understand why very soon

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