Shall I dance?

I must have been in the toilet when God decided to hand out dancing skills. I am probably the stiffest, most awkward dancer I know. If a person would make me choose between jumping off a plane and dancing in front of a crowd, I’d buy a parachute and not dancing shoes. I don’t know if it’s because I lack the instruction or I just simply don’t have the goods, but swaying hips and flailing arms have never been my thing.

By some stroke of sick irony, a few months ago, my friend and fellow Young Star columnist Reggie Belmonte asked me if I could dance in her debut as part of her cotillion. Imagine my reaction. No way! I would rather spend all my days pulling out my teeth! Never! No amount of money will make me waltz! Of course, that was all in my head. In reality, I said yes, but with fair warning. I can’t say no to a friend – especially on her 18th birthday.

Do you remember what happened to Neo when he took the red pill instead of the blue from Morpheus in the first Matrix movie? Well, that pretty much symbolizes the next month-and-a-half I had after I took my proverbial red pill. I went into a world I did not understand and could not appreciate – a world of exaggerated movements and permanent smiles, tucked-in stomachs and pushed-out chests and hours and hours of practice. I woke up one morning and realized I was about to do something I never thought I’d do. I was going to dance.

Reggie was quick to comfort me by saying that most of the people in the cotillion share the same sentiments as I when it comes to getting jiggy. I took solace in the fact that these people were just as scared as I was about facing the possibility of dancing to the "Dance of the Sugarplum Fairies" or something to that effect.

We practiced for three straight days and then every Saturday after for about three hours a day. It was tough, and more so for those, like me, who just don’t get waltzes. Oddly enough, the time I spent practicing this elaborate (at least by my standards) waltz proved to be, in retrospect, something I would miss. It’s not so much the dancing. It’s the people and, more importantly, the reason we were all there despite our qualms: The friendship.

Come to think of it, isn’t that what friendship is all about? Doing something you’d rather not just make someone happy; giving up your time, dignity, modesty, energy and sanity for a person just because he or she is a friend and just to show that you care. Love is pain to some degree and true friendships are measured by the amount of physical or emotional sacrifice one is willing to make.

When the big moment finally came, I was ready to pee in my pants. I was nervous and anxious and jittery and my bladder was becoming my worst enemy. That scene from the Matrix where Cypher tells Neo, "I know what you’re asking yourself, why oh why didn’t I just take the blue pill?" plays in my mind. The music hits and all bets are off. After what seemed like 15 hours in my head but 15 minutes in real time, it was over and I didn’t screw it up that much. I could breathe easy. It’s over. I can pee.

Later that night, we gathered together, no longer as cotillion partners, but as friends and celebrated a job well done, a birthday of a great person and the fact that this won’t be the last time we would be together like this again.

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Thank you to Reggie, Mikey, Ginno, Ethan, Bea, Sarah, Erica, Carla, Sabina, Nikki, Bianca, Judy, Paolo, Evan, Francis, Yosef and Leandro for all the great times.

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For questions, comments or complaints, please e-mail me at emailcarlramirez@yahoo.com.