Bitter.

So I went dancing last night.

It’s been a while since I tore up the floor.

And last night’s floor…remained intact.

Contrary to my usual dance antics on the floor, the polished wood remained unburned and tear-free. And unlike most people who were spinning away on the floor, this time, I was the one who blended in with the green wall décor and the other dancers who felt a bit too intimidated by the music.

I had a few dances with this girl who reminded me of a friend in Dunedin who is doing her post graduate degree and she was very accommodating, especially of my cuban salsa which has been rusting away in different parts of my body for a long long time.

And apart from that, yeah. Nothing spectacular happened.

The music was fast and unfamiliar and at times, I felt like I was dancing off beat for most of the songs. Not enough bachatas came on and there wasn’t even merengues or zouks being played. Disappointing but then again, considering the crowd, no one knew how to dance anything else but salsa. Whenever a bachata came on, everyone would pretty much flee the floor except for those who could do it.

What was exciting to see though was the fact that every time a salsa song came on, a rueda happened. And coming from a background where my roots of salsa started off from rueda, I could definitely see how it was so much fun. The moves being done were complicated and even though I considered myself good, I guess there’s always that point in time when you come to a realization that no matter how good you are, there’s always someone bigger and better than you.

Yes, I know. This is probably just a sympathy post where I’m sulking in the corner licking my wounds because I didn’t do as well as I thought I would.

But last night was the first night where a night of Latino dancing left a bitter taste in my mouth and an ever growing and strengthening resolve to never go back to that style of dancing again.

The Girlfriend has been more than understanding, telling me that its just part of the settling in process and that I’ll find a studio that I like and that I’m comfortable with once I get everything sorted out. Which is perhaps true. I’m hoping to settle down merely two weeks after I’ve moved to a new place which is probably commendable but nothing to be proud of. I need to take my time.

What happened to that laid back, chilled out, Poet?

Maybe it has vanished somewhere amongst the MRT stations and the glow of Blackberry screens.

At least I’ve still got ceroc. +)

The Ceroc HK person contacted me and apparently, we’ll be running workshops in April. And here’s hoping that I’ll finally get my instructor’s…and who knows? Start a new dance revolution in Singapore? Perhaps.

Perhaps.

Perhaps.