dance me to the wedding now
When Dan and I were preparing to get married (two years ago already, ay caramba), we had this naive little vision of gracing the dance floor with all four of our feet firmly under own command. We were going to take dance lessons. We didn’t want to choreograph a whole musical number, we simply wanted to have a might more grace and elegance than came naturally to us. An aura of knowing what we were doing. Essentially we wanted to know just enough to make everyone else think we knew it all.
But then we ran out of time. More accurately we procrastinated to the point of no return and decided simply to wing it. Of course that is a horrible idea when faced with actually having to stand in front of all your family and friends, a deejay, two wedding planners, caterers, serving staff, two or three bartenders, and, oh yeah, six photographers. In heels! (Me anyway. Dan had sturdier footwear.)
Luckily, Dan made the ultimate choice in best men and had by his side a BFF/former college roommate/all-around good guy and “most interesting man in the world” trainee who took us aside 15 minutes before our grand entrance and gave us the quickest lesson in dancing ever undertaken by humans anywhere. Probably.
With our new moves (this term applied loosely) firmly in hand, we took to the floor for our first dance as husband and wife. No one fell over. All toes came out the other side present and accounted for. It was a success. (Me up there: “We’ve made it this far, it’s time for you to lift me over your head like that scene from Dirty Dancing.”)
While editing one of our recent weddings I started thinking about first dances and wondering about the significance of this tradition. Does it stem from the ancient times, signaling a newly formed union through a shared rhythm and knowledge of the latest dance craze sweeping the nation? Was it merely a chance to hold your beloved close in a way the weeks of courting wouldn’t have allowed in the Victorian times of amiable respectability? I set out to find the answers.
