When you think of the late Yule Brenner, what do you think of besides illuminating baldness? Perhaps the thought of his bronze-toned body or the set of dark, intimidating eyes? What may just come to most women’s minds is the thought of how he romantically danced with Anna across the palace ballroom in the classic movie hit, The King and I.  In that scene, he dances with every woman in the world, even those with two left feet, who want nothing else than to be swept across an empty ballroom where not even spectators can inhibit them from moving freely in a parachute dress. Let’s not think of the possibility of a catastrophic fall that can cause a roll across the mass emptiness in profuse momentum but instead, think for a minute of who this suave character may be in our lives right now, whose arm could wrap around our waist and serve to uphold our bodies in motion.

 I’m lucky to admit the person that has literally swept me off my feet is my very own husband, a man as suave as Yule Brenner was but, fortunately, has a full head of hair and a voice comparable to Barry White, yet happily weighing 170 pounds. Though, I can’t say we exactly engage in ballroom dancing, we do enjoy what I’d call a mere form of prancing.  

I felt I had won the lottery the day my husband hinted at the idea of taking salsa lessons. The next minute I was calling up the Fred Astaire Dance Studio a few blocks from my house, though I would have preferred the studio to be located 30 miles away. The idea of living in a small town and taking lessons in ballroom dancing made me feel a bit cautious. What would my neighbors think? Would my child’s schoolteacher picture me in a wide-hoop dress and my hair set like Goldilocks?  I confess, my goal was to look more like Jennifer Lopez but I realize the only thing I share with her is the Latin blood. Hoping those genes would surface, my husband and I set our fears aside and enrolled in lessons. What unraveled thereafter was exactly what my marriage needed- a little zest, some groovy moves and the best part of all, a weekly break from routine. 

 Soon we were making moves we had seen other couples achieve only on TV though our own personal expectations were much lower than that. We didn’t necessarily want to become a couple that possessed such flair, but rather have an enjoyable time together, learning to possibly unleash some hidden body language.   Though we’d never attempt the Lambada and risk hearing a protest from our kids, we’ve certainly learned some sensuous Tango moves and some quirky steps in Merengue. And though my husband humorously refers to it as a cult, you have the right to refuse any particular dance step you feel you won’t find joy in doing, as my husband did when learning how to dance Swing. He just couldn’t bring himself to bounce and jiggle as if extinguishing hot coals.  That was where he drew the line and he heard no complaints from me. After all, I am well pleased in being swept off my feet and prancing across a dance floor with a man who’s more striking than Yule Brenner and yes, way sexier than Richard Gere.