Wedding Journal

The last time we went through dance classes, I discovered that the foxtrot is my eternal nemesis. I do just fine when we're walking through the steps, but turn on some music, and suddenly I'm tripping all over myself.

Unfortunately for me, the song Rob and I have chosen for our "first dance" at the wedding reception is a foxtrot.

In preparation for that first dance, we've signed up for a four-week class in foxtrot, waltz and single-step swing through the Dance Factory, a studio in Virginia Square that Allison and Adam recommended to us.

I'm so glad that we took our introduction to ballroom class last spring, or else we would have been pretty lost in our first class on Tuesday, during which our teacher sped through the basic steps of the rumba and the foxtrot.

Our dance instructor also required us to periodically swap dance partners, which was a strange, awkward experience for me. (In the first dance class we took, through the city of Alexandria, Rob and I just danced with each other.) In most cases, we avoided smalltalk and, eyes fixed steadfastly over each other's shoulders, concentrated on our own steps.

The one time I tried to be friendly and congratulate a partner on his mastery of the basic rumba steps, he stumbled and we had to start over again. A few minutes later, when the song ended, he told me, "Do you know why that worked? You didn't open your mouth."

I felt no guilt when I noticed that he didn't have a partner for the next dance.

On the upside, the basic rumba and foxtrot steps came back pretty quickly. And when I really concentrated, I didn't stumble all over myself. Concentration is key.

That, and practice. We need to make a point to do that this time, or, come April, we're sunk.