I was driving around last night and heard Stairway to Heaven on the radio. I was transported back to my Catholic grammar school dances.
This song was both loved and feared by me.
Loved because if I liked a boy, I could dance a slow dance for a long long time, rocking back and forth since that's all we knew. Not too close of course, though at the time I wasn't sure why - I didn't understand penises (penii?) or sex. Maybe it was the nuns watching on the sidelines, ready to beat us with their rulers if we got too close.
Hated because at the end of the song, all of a sudden there's a really fast part, so I had to separate from the boy and flail around and not look too stupid, because then for a brief time at the very end there's a slow part again, and I wanted to be sure I could get back into the slow dance mode and not be walked away from because of my flailing. I think I managed to get back into the boy's arms, probably because they didn't want to look stupid either.
At the same school we had father/daughter dances. Or at least one that I can remember. My dad wooed my mom by dancing. He was an excellent dancer. It was so intimidating because I wanted to follow perfectly, but of course messed up occasionally. Which I'm sure didn't bother him, since he was 1) dancing again 2) dancing with his youngest daughter. I think that was the only time I danced with him, since when I was married he was already dead. But I still remember that one dance.
I wish more men danced well. It's a beautiful thing.