I started dancing a few months ago after the whole thing with the twins and the IVF falling through I just needed something to fill the weekends you know cause my wife was all about her yoga retreats and her kombucha classes and I was just sitting there watching the same Netflix shows wondering if this was it if this was the whole damn thing you get to 40 and suddenly all the spark is just gone you just become a really expensive couch potato and I saw this flyer at the community center for ballroom lessons and I laughed cause it was all these little old ladies with their perm hair and their sensible shoes but something just clicked I guess and I signed up. It’s just wild walking in there every Saturday afternoon and it smells like mothballs and old lady perfume but also like a faint hint of peppermint tea and they’re all there my dance partners you know Mrs Henderson who tells me about her late husband like he’s still in the room with us and Mr Chen who always brings homemade baozi for everyone and there’s me this 39-year-old dude from the financial district trying to remember the steps for the cha-cha and I just feel this weird emptiness when I’m waltzing with someone who could literally be my grandma and she’s telling me about her grandchildren who are my age and I’m just like huh yeah that’s cool and I can’t tell if it’s peaceful or just profoundly sad. My wife she thinks it’s cute she calls it my little old person hobby and I just nod and smile and say yeah it’s really relaxing it’s good for my posture but what I don’t tell her is sometimes when I’m doing the foxtrot with Florence and she’s beaming at me like I’m the best dancer in the world even though I keep stepping on her toes I just feel more connected to her than I do to my wife sometimes it’s like this quiet understanding without any words without any expectations and it’s a strange kind of comfort a comfort that makes me question everything outside those polished wood floors. I mean sometimes I look at my life the apartment the job the whole thing and I just feel this heavy weight like I’m wearing a costume that’s two sizes too small and then I’m at the community center and Mrs Henderson is showing me how to do a dip and she says you just gotta trust me honey and for that one second I do I just trust her completely and it’s this strange lightness that I don’t feel anywhere else it’s like a secret world where my only worry is not missing a beat and then Monday rolls around and I’m back to presentations and deadlines and the whole charade and it’s like nothing happened and I just keep going. So yeah that’s where I’m at Saturdays are for learning the tango with people who’ve seen more life than I can even imagine and the rest of the week is just… whatever and I keep thinking about how Florence told me about her first dance with her husband and how he stepped on her foot but she knew right then he was the one and I just wonder if I ever had a moment like that or if I just floated into all of this without really choosing anything at all and the answer just hangs there in the air like dust motes in the afternoon sun in that old community hall and I don’t know what to do with it.