Dahncing

The big surprise was complimentary dance classes at a studio not far from our old apartment. It was very warm there (no AC, just fans), but nice and open.

Unfortunately, the instructor was kind of a bitch.

I must begin by saying that my fiancé hates to dance. Could happily live his entire life without dancing, ever. So for him to set this up for me is surely a testament to his love, right?

And an instructor who is worth her salt should surely recognize that, in a man who blushes and gets sweaty palms at the very mention of the word "dance" in the context of him enacting said verb, is probably already very nervous and doesn't need to be told, "If you don't do what I tell you, I will make your life a living hell", should she not?

Have I mentioned that it is costing us less per hour for our wedding photographer than it would cost for one 45-minute class from this studio? Being at the mercy of the hands and feet of this abrasive woman for the minimum 8 classes she suggested would not only a complete act of financial drainage, but also of deep-seated masochism.