Last weekend, I did something that I hadn’t done since 10 June 2003.

I went to a wedding reception.

As well as being an event I don’t often experience, this latest case of a friend tying the knot had special significance.

It would be the first reception I would attend since undergoing my great life-change from mid-2007, so I was interested to see how I would handle it.

And one element in particular – dancing.

For most of my life, I have loved listening to music and I have no problems dancing in the privacy of my own home – but up until mid-2007, I had done almost no dancing in public because risk-averse self-conscious guys like me with no self-confidence, that’s what we do (or don’t).

In fact, the last time I had danced had been at the reception of an earlier wedding in 2003, and that had been embarrassing (to me, anyway). A stunning friend of the bride had suddenly dragged me from my seat for the last song of the night, and enroute to the dance-floor I had resolved to be a good sport and give it my best shot…but despite those good intentions, I became incredibly self-conscious and uncomfortable, and thus I spent all of ‘The Time Of My Life’ looking down at the floor as I barely shuffled my feet back and forth.

This time, however, I had resolved to do much better – and I genuinely wanted to do much better.

Still, even right up until after dinner when the dance-floor opened, I was a little nervous about it.

But although I had no plans to take the incredibly bold step and ask someone to dance, I told myself that if I was taken onto the dance-floor, I should relax, dance for myself, not give a damn about what anyone else may or may not be thinking of me, and have a good time.

Sure enough, not long after the second song had begun, a woman at my table whom I’d just met and had had some fun conversation with earlier took my hands and led me over.

I went willingly, and a moment later we began dancing to ‘Thank ABBA For The Music’.

I kept my 2003 massive dance-fail in mind, and moved my arse with a lot more effort and energy.

I kept my head up, looked directly at my partner and did several types of shuffle. I tried moving in time with her and exchanging high-fives, and although we mostly missed by country miles I kept on going. Several times, I even lifted one foot and spun all the way around on the other.

A few minutes passed.

My partner vanished – why and where, I don’t know. But that shouldn’t stop me, I told myself, so I turned to my neighbours and kept on dancing.

Another minute or so passed.

And then suddenly I realised something, and came to a halt.

I didn’t feel like dancing anymore.

I wasn’t embarrassed, or nervous, or self-conscious…

…but I was bored.

At first, I found that both funny and unbelievable. Despite my nervousness during the previous week, I had been looking forward to dancing…but now I was finally here and doing it, and after only a few minutes I wanted to stop because it wasn’t that interesting after all?

But the more I thought about it, the more I felt like just sitting back down, relaxing and enjoying the overall atmosphere.

So I did.

Time passed. The dance-floor remained busy, and I remained seated and relaxed as I enjoyed the general atmosphere and spoke with several people at my table.

From time to time, I enjoyed watching some of my fellow guests dance, but I had no plans to rejoin them and that provoked an interesting question to mull over.

What if I were asked again to dance?

On one hand, if the occasion arose I didn’t want to be a whiny deadshit about it…but on the other hand, I simply had no interest in dancing again.

So what to do?

Eventually, I decided what my response would be – and later when another woman from my table came over and asked me to join her on her dance-floor, I smiled at her and replied matter-of-factly, but also pleasantly and politely, “No, thank you.”

She placed her hands on my shoulder and asked again, so once more I smiled and replied matter-of-factly, but also pleasantly and politely, “No, thank you.”

She kept her hands on my shoulder and asked a third time.

Now I was starting to get annoyed, but for the third time I smiled and replied matter-of-factly, but also pleasantly and politely, “No, thank you.”

Fortunately, the woman I had danced with earlier was now sitting a few seats away, and she told her daughter that if I didn’t want to dance, please leave me be.

So I was left to be, and for the rest of the night I continued to sit there, relax, enjoy the general atmosphere and talk with others.

I had nothing against my second would-be dance-partner – she was a nice person and a few times throughout the night we spoke and had a few laughs.

But, despite giving it my best shot and initially liking it, I ultimately realised that I didn’t want to dance after all, and I was fine with declining her request.

Although I did appreciate her mother lending support at that crucial moment.

Until next time, stay well and take care 🙂