Dancing in the Dark Pt. 01

Prologue

What do you do when you have had enough of wallowing in the self-pity of a nearly-divorced man (not your decision or preference but she didn't care) in his early 40's and decide that it is now time to venture forth into the dating scene?

Internet dating sites are popular ... however, in the words of the late great Jim Steinman: There ain't no Coupe de Ville hiding at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box and whilst I got laid a few times, there were far more scary ones than potential long-term mates;

Speed dating ... see above but without getting laid but with less exposure to the scary ones;

Singles' bars ... see above but don't frequent the same bar twice as the scary ones may still be there;

Singles' holidays ... see above but you can't avoid meeting the scary ones as you're there for several days;

Join a gym ... the scary ones could be stronger than you and do some damage.

I could mention the well meaning friends that organise dinner parties or cultural events or dog walks ... etc. ... etc. ... to pair you up with someone else in the same situation but maybe it is just my problem that they feel too contrived to be able to relax.

My salvation came from an unexpected quarter and in an unexpected form.

Chapter 1

It was 12 months since the moment my wife said 'I'm bored' which I misconstrued as meaning 'we need to get away for a long weekend' and suggested that my parents would look after the kids when we hopped off to Rome or Paris. This was not her message at all and the correct meaning of her words was explained in great vitriolic detail including a large portion relating to my personal short-comings as husband, provider, father and sexual partner.

Fast forward six months and the family home is sold, custody arrangements have been agreed although the kids are nearly grown, the division of assets and pension funds has been hard to swallow and the decree-nisi is nearly absolute. I am dislocated from my supposed partner-for-life of 20 years and still awash with self-pity as to how someone as wonderful as me could have ended up here.

It takes another three months before I decide that I had better do something more than watch internet porn as an evening's entertainment and actually start mixing with members of the opposite sex as, at heart, I am someone who needs a significant other in their life. Back in the day when the work-place was the same stable environment for a career of 40 plus years there was an 80% chance you would meet your life partner (or a bed-mate for a few years) there. However, these days the work-place is a far more fragmented concept both in terms of physical existence or the duration of your stay that these chances narrow significantly and even if you meet someone you like, there is a strong chance that you'll get accused of sexual harassment if your attentions are unrequited.

No, the work-place may still be a productive source for some but as the boss of a small consultancy firm with no office and a peripatetic group of associates there is little chance I will meet anyone that way, any time soon. Yes, I do spend a lot of time at client's sites but never really long enough to start chatting up the hottie divorcee from Accounts or the sexy MILF who masquerades as the MD's PA. If you add to that a historical problem of shyness when speaking to any member of the opposite sex then my chances of finding lasting happiness with a new life-partner are pretty slim.

Forget the life-partner bit, getting laid would do as a start!

Let's just say that my internet dating experience was varied as I met some really nice ladies who were not my type, or I wasn't theirs and a lot more strange folk who were definitely not my type. I know that this complaint can be levied at men as well but the preference for women over the age of 40 to post photos of themselves that were taken many years ago is still baffling. The first meeting destroys any trust that the other person has and actually is counterproductive as all I did was sit there thinking 'fuck, she looks rough, I wonder what her real age is'. I aimed for the 30-40 age bracket but a lot of ladies in that demographic were looking for a toy-boy and the majority of ones who made contact with me were 50+, also looking for a younger man. Whilst I have nothing against the older woman I have no desire to date someone almost as old as my mother.

I went on blind dates organised by friends and found myself putting so much pressure on myself that I came across as manic.

I tried a weekend glamping for singles but being stuck in a tent in the rain with strangers was not my idea of fun.

I joined an Am-Dram group but there is only so much bad acting I could put up with.

I was thinking of giving up and reverting to internet porn when I had a flyer thrust into the letterbox of the crappy apartment I was renting, offering a free trial dance lesson. On the basis that there should be single women wanting to do this as well I thought I'd give it a try and sent a text to the number provided.

Chapter 2

The venue was the local community centre which was within walking distance of my flat but I knew it to be pretty decrepit and freezing cold inside. I arrived a few minutes late due to having trouble getting away from a client who had a system problem that he insisted I come on site to solve, despite the fact that I could have done it remotely. There was quite a large gathering of both men and women and I did a quick head count and realised there was an extra man ... me! It was obvious that there were very few other newbies if any, and most people were in well established partnerships, my heart sank. It's one thing to be paired with another first-timer so your mistakes are covered by theirs but the idea of dancing with someone who thinks that Strictly Come Dancing is beneath them, appalled me. A bit like playing your first round of golf with Tiger Woods.

I stood self-consciously in the doorway wondering whether just to leg it out of there and go to the pub when an attractive blonde lady carrying a clipboard hurried over to me.

"Hi, you must be Jason. Welcome to our little dance group, I'm Wendy, the organiser and head instructor. Now, let's go through a few details about you and your experience so we can try and partner you with someone appropriate."

I was embarrassed and tried to make a joke out of it.

"I've never done any formal ballroom dancing before and my kids banned me from dad-dancing in public many years ago."

She didn't crack a smile and looked at me like I was an idiot.

"We do not do modern dancing here, this group is ballroom and Latin only. If you want modern then I'm sure there are suitable groups for that."

I blushed profusely.

"Sorry, you misunderstood me. I was just saying that my kids don't think I'm a very good dancer. No, I came for ballroom and Latin ... dancing cheek-to-cheek and all that!"

Wendy still didn't crack a smile at my renewed attempt at levity and hurriedly looked down at her clipboard to avoid having to hear any more of my inane chatter.

"Well, as you were a little bit late all of the ladies who have enough experience to help out the new starters have been paired off. You'll have to go with Georgie ... my ... umm daughter ... she can guide you through the male steps."

The last was said with a strange inflection as she looked to the corner of the room. I followed her gaze catching sight of a figure sitting on one of the seats along the edge of the dance floor. My heart sank as I took in the hunched posture of the young girl looking with concentration at her phone without ever looking at the people who surrounded her. Great! A teenager! Not exactly the demographic that I had come to meet.

"Umm, I don't want to be rude but isn't she a little young to be teaching?"

Wendy looked fiercely at me and I realised I had over-stepped some hidden line.

"I'll have you know that ...err ... she ... has been dancing since she was about 8 and won many competitions before ... umm ... she became an adolescent and ... well she stopped for a while but I'm trying to get her back into it ... "

Wendy looked wistfully at her daughter and I heard her mutter to herself.

"Sorry, I didn't catch what you said."

She looked sharply at me and shook her head resignedly.

"I was just bemoaning all the wasted promise ... she ... had."

I nodded sympathetically.

"Yes, I know what you mean ... my son was a really good football player until he discovered girls when he got to 15 ... but you can't force them. Was it boys that distracted umm ... Georgie?"

Wendy gave me a look that I couldn't fathom and sighed heavily.

"In a way ... anyway I'll introduce you and she can take you through the steps for the first dance we are going to practice ... or learn in your case. We're starting with a simple waltz and will move on to the foxtrot if we have time ... "

She started to walk over towards her daughter and my heart sank even further when I realised that the aforementioned Georgie had earbuds in and was tuning out the whole room. It spoke volumes that she probably did not want to be here. We stopped in front of the seated figure and Wendy nudged her foot with one of her own causing Georgie to look up at her mother with a roll of her pale blue eyes and a surly shrug of her shoulders. She then transferred her gaze to me and I could see a smirk forming on her full lips. She did something to her phone and pulled the earbuds out before looking back at her mother with a disappointed look.

"Bummer! So you do have an odd number. Just when I thought I could skip this geriatric shit show."

That confirmed it. She certainly didn't want to be there. I was surprised by her voice which was slightly hoarse and quite deep for what looked like a slim frame.

"Yes, darling. I'm sorry to interrupt your game of Candy Crush or whatever but you did say you would help if we had an odd number."

Georgie rolled her eyes at the mention of Candy Crush as even I knew that was sooo last year but had actually no clue as to what the game of choice was at that moment, as my children tell me not to try to get down with the kids. I could see that I was not going to have a lot in common with this young lady but then I hadn't come here to find myself a bit of mid-life-crisis-fluff. Georgie looked over at me with barely concealed contempt before looking back at her mother.

"OK, if I must. What have I got to work with?"

"This is Jason, he's a complete novice so you'll have to start with the basics while I get the rest going. It's a waltz to start with but walk him through it if he doesn't catch on quickly."

'Talk about me as if I'm not here why don't you?'

Georgie stood up and it was immediately obvious that she was a tall girl and dwarfed her mother and would only be a few inches short of my 6ft 2. She ignored my outstretched hand and I withdrew it quickly with a flash of anger passing through me at the rudeness of this girl. I took the opportunity of her ignoring me to appraise her as she took off her coat to reveal she was wearing a tight tank top and jeans. She was slim with a hint of small breasts and a narrow waist which flared to an attractive arse showcased by the tight jeans. Her blonde hair was worn long and confined in a high pony tail which pulled it away from her face. Her large eyes, which I had noticed before, were a striking pale blue and I thought she must be wearing coloured contact lenses but noticed Wendy's were a similar shade. Those eyes dominated a face that would be called handsome rather than beautiful with a long straight nose, a full mouth and a strong jaw line. She wore a bit too much make-up for my liking but it wasn't up to me.

I realised she was smirking at me as she had caught my appraising stare and I blushed feeling the need to introduce myself.

"Umm ... sorry ... I'm Jason and as your mother said I'm a complete novice. Thank you for giving up your time to help me but please be gentle with me."

My attempt at humour went down as well with Georgie as it had with her mother and I was rewarded with a quiet snort of derision.

"Whatever! Just don't stand on my feet too many times."

Reflexively I looked down at her feet and was immediately struck by how big they were, probably only a couple of sizes smaller than mine. I also noticed that her shoes had practically no heel so she was a really tall girl. I blushed again and stuttered a meaningless pre-apology which she shrugged off.

Her attitude was really starting to piss me off. She may not want to be there but don't take it out on the paying customer ... not that I was paying for this one but at that point I did not think I would be coming back. Wendy called the session to order and gave out instructions to other couples in terms of what she was looking from them and then started the music.

Georgie shook her head at me as I proffered my arms in what I thought was the correct pose and I dropped them hurriedly back to my sides.

"Don't do that ... don't guess at what you're supposed to do ... I'll give you steps to try on your own first before we go into hold. This is what the male steps look like for the basic waltz."

With that she paced out the initial steps and then got me to try. It wasn't that difficult and I thought I was doing OK but Georgie obviously did not agree. So commenced one of the most excruciating half hours of my life as nothing I did was right even though it looked to me as if I had copied her exactly and when we finally got into hold, I did step on her feet twice. It was her overly dramatic response to the second time that I had finally had enough of her attitude.

"Look, I believe even a half-wit can work out I am not trying to stand on your feet deliberately so stop being such a bitch. It's bloody obvious you don't want to be doing this so why don't you go back to playing with your fucking phone and I'll get out of here. That way we can both enjoy the rest of our evening. Tell your mother I shall not be returning. Goodbye!"

She looked a bit stunned as I gathered up my jacket and made for the exit. Unfortunately, Wendy saw me and came hurrying over.

"Jason, leaving so soon. Did you not enjoy it?"

I pondered my reply before deciding honesty was the best policy.

"Wendy, I'm sorry but your daughter seems to think that I should be dancing like Fred Astaire already and does not seem to relish the prospect of working with lesser mortals. I do not take kindly to being called 'an uncoordinated incompetent twat' even if there may be a germ of truth in there so I will bid you goodnight."

Wendy looked horrified and looked over at her daughter and I turned to follow her gaze only to see Georgie do an eye-roll and a 'whatever' shrug. Wendy turned back to me and was most apologetic.

"Jason, I am so sorry, let me find you another partner ..."

"No thank you Wendy. I will go to the pub and drown out the sound of your daughter's incessant bitching with a nice pint."

Chapter 3

I went to the nearest pub which despite the town centre location was warm and welcoming with a roaring fire and a decent pint of Abbot Ale. I sat at one of the tables nearest the fire and gazed reflectively into the flames as I thought about the vagaries of meeting someone to share my life with and consumed the first pint with out really noticing. I went to get another and was turning away from the bar and bumped into someone who had been stood behind me treading on their foot in the process and spilling some of my beer. After the day I had just had I just lost it and started to rant at the person before realising who it was.

"For fuck's sake why are you standing so close ... there is the whole of the bar to stand at and you ... Oh, Georgie ... what the ... what are you doing here?"

She looked embarrassed ... and so she bloody should and started to stammer.

"Jason ... sorry ... I ... I came to apologise ... Mum said ... I'm sorry ... "

I could tell that tears were not far away and suddenly I felt guilty. Somewhere in the back of my brain there was my resident (but ignored) alpha male going 'you fall for it every time ... what are you man or mouse?' while the real me was a sucker for suffering from anything female. I have often wondered how this change of dynamic comes about but seem powerless to stop it. My mouth starting operating without any reference to my brain in a typically British way when dealing with a 'situation' for which they were not actually at fault.

"Oh, no ... I'm sorry it was my fault ... I should have been looking where I was going ... I hope I didn't spill any beer on you ... oh I did ... here let me get a bar towel and dry you off ... oh God ... I stood on your foot again ... I'm so sorry ... ummm ... can I buy you a drink ... what will you have ... "

She giggled!

She fucking giggled!

She morphed from just about to cry to taking the piss in about 2 nano-seconds and I stood there with my mouth open in amazement ... struck dumb ... but getting angrier by the second and my face betrayed it. Georgie hurriedly stopped laughing and put a placatory hand on my arm as she smiled at me. I'm pretty sure it was the first time I had seen her smile and she seemed like a different person.

"I'm sorry Jason but I'm not laughing at you, honestly. I'm laughing at the ridiculous situations that people get themselves into by being polite. You have nothing to apologise for. It was my fault and I deserve your initial little rant and dare I say it, I also deserve being called a bitch back in the lesson. As for buying me a drink, I came here to buy you one to say sorry."

She smiled hesitantly as though expecting to be told to 'F Off' in no uncertain terms and I was flummoxed at this rapid change of events and the smile once again entranced me. I looked at her goggle-eyed for a few seconds as my brain tried to catch up with what had just happened. I spoke very quickly as I always do when nervous.

"No ... errr .. worries I'm still at the bar so the rules say it's still my shout ... what will you drink ... a Jägermeister bomb or whatever young people drink these days."

Georgie giggled again but rolled her eyes at my attempt to be cool. The smile still held me in it's sway.

"It's a 'Jäger bomb' but no, I'll have what your having, a pint of Abbot. It's the only decent beer here, however the Mucky Duck does a nice pint of Doombar, you should try there next time."

I was still confused by the sudden turn of events and conversation. I gone from Incredible-Hulk-anger to a roll-over-and-have-my-tummy-tickled softy in a matter of seconds and it was her bloody smile that was doing it.

"The Mucky Duck? I don't think I know that one ... I thought I knew all the proper ale pubs in town."

Georgie giggled again and shook her head at my naivete before smiling again and I could not take my eyes off her face.

"The White Swan you numpty, on Rupert Street. It is called The Mucky Duck ... because ... actually I don't know why, but it is."

Now she looked slightly embarrassed and it was my turn to smile.

"No matter ... I'll get you a pint of Abbot, I was sitting at that table over there if you want to grab a chair."

She looked in the direction I had nodded and walked towards my table. Once I had been served I made my own way over to her wondering all the time why I was being so considerate of someone who not long before was giving me dog's abuse. I decided I would at least express my point of view.

"Here you go, one pint of Abbot. I have to say I'm not used to see young girls supping pints of proper beer ... piss-awful lager yes, but ale, not so much."

She smiled wryly and nodded in agreement.

"Either that or some disgusting concoction with a load of fruit and parasols in it. No, I much prefer real ale. Anyway, I came here to say sorry ..."