Salsa Dancing & My Mid-Life Crisis

It looked like so much fun. Everyone was twirling around being fabulous to vibrant, high energy latin music and I thought; 

I can totally do this!

To understand my propensity to think I can do stuff, I am what’s commonly known as a cliff jumper. At age 16 a legit New York modeling agency asked me to move there and work for them, so I got on a plane and moved to New York City. Mom cried, dad’s hair turned grey, and everything worked out. 

Then there was the time when I was tired of starving myself as a model in Paris so I bought a ticket to London with my best friend. No plan just, like, went to London. I ended up getting a literature degree and had a blast. 

Lastly, at age 56, I was burnt out from being a single mother so I bought a flight to Ecuador to live and, you know, I still live here. What I’m trying to say is, shit works out. Just jump in the ring and spin around and you’ll figure it out. It’s a crazy way to live but there you have it. 

For those eternally stable and home-bound types I’m sure I look like a lunatic and you may be right. I may be crazy. 

Back to Salsa. 

True to form, I stepped on the dance floor for my first Salsa lesson in Sacramento, California, full of glee and the belief that I would soon be twirling around in my cute skirt being fabulous. I bombed. I ended up crying and sitting on the sidelines like a loser, while my two friends, who are excellent dancers, folded their arms and judged me. 

Note to self, do not judge people when they can’t dance. One friend said there was something wrong with me, that I was out of touch with my body and sensuality and therefore needed help. Like therapy or something. The other friend said I needed to practice daily until I overcame this terrible block to dancing as, clearly, my dysfunctionality is ruining my love life. 

Romance and the Mid-Life Crisis

Sensuality is the baseline of Salsa. You move your hips, shake what you got, and show cleavage if at all possible. For those of us who do not consider ourselves sexy this is terrifying. Yes, I was a model, but I am not that. I am bookish and thoughtful, insecure and introverted. Never was I ever hired for runway modeling, because, well, I suck at it. I walk like a drunk duck and I am not being facetious. Never have I ever shown cleavage; all my shirts cover the goods and I like it that way. I think this was the concern of my two dancing friends because, you see, they both showed what they got including high heel shoes and big hair. So, you see the conflict. 

Does it help your romantic life if you can dance Salsa? From a purely analytical point of view, probably not. Both my friends have been married a few times and have a constant funnel of men dancing in and out of their lives. This of course is fine, but for me, having been a model where my appearance was viewed as the most important thing in my life, means I no longer place much value or credence in outward beauty. I do not think it has anything to do with actual love. Romance, yes, love, no.  

As far as relational status goes, I am single and content that way. I love my freedom and periodically take a lover but always with the understanding that I won’t cook for them. It’s a relationship based on freedom, not commitment. Dancing, for me, has zero to do with how men see me or finding a partner. Zero. 

So where is the mid-life crisis? For me, it is a crisis of purpose. My daughters are grown, my parents aging, and my work is slow. What am I doing now? Where am I headed in life? As much as I grapple with these things, learning to dance is like learning a new way to live. It’s like trying to unsuccessfully hit a beat in tight shoes. 

Like dancing to the deafening drum of a world turning to AI while I write stories. 

Sensuality and the Boogie

I tried Salsa two more times while I was in Sacramento, much to my great failure and dismay. My feet and the music were at odds, and my body would rather be doing anything else than salsa. The criticism from my friends became more intense, and we no longer discuss my so-called failings. If anything kills friendship, it is superiority. 

Fast forward a few years and my friend in Ecuador, Maureen, asked me if I wanted to take f*cking Salsa lessons. After telling her my story, I decided to let my previous experience go and try again. This time, I wore jeans, tennis shoes and no lipstick, because I decided I was trying this again for fun and not to prove anything to anyone. Pressure is off, it’s all about play. 

In Sacramento, the vibe was more performance and sex appeal, but in Ecuador it was fun and encouraging. Ecuadorian culture is wonderful. The people are kind, accepting, and warm, and I simply could not imagine that my terrible dancing skills would be met with any judgement. 

I was right. 

Salsa and Sex

If you have tried dancing and struggled, maybe it’s the atmosphere. What I discovered in Ecuador, is that not only is the vibe encouraging, but the dance teachers didn’t use music during the lessons. They teach us to count our steps without music. For me, this is the clincher. I don’t like salsa music. It’s an issue. I like classical, 70’s rock, and the Bee Gees; salsa music irritates me and makes me want to run screaming. 

Note to self, it is next to impossible to learn to dance to music you dislike. For example, a friend of mine passionately loves Tango and took me to her Tango class. Everyone was very serious about Tango, dressed up for the occasion, and devoted to the Tango community. For me, I didn’t get it. Everything about Tango is romance and sex including the music. I’m not very romantic and the drama of the dance kind of made me chuckle, TBH. This is not to say I don’t believe in love. On the contrary, I believe very much in love, but it is a practical, honest, and reality based endeavor. The blur of romance and dance is not a part of my paradigm. 

If you love romance and sensuality, then Tango is for you. I’m the one in the corner with a bottle of wine giggling.

So why would a middle aged un-romantic woman try dancing at all? For me, dancing or attempting to dance, is about overcoming my past dancing debacles and learning to laugh at myself. I am making friends with locals as an immigrant with mediocre Spanish while having a midlife crisis. You may as well enjoy the journey. 

Get the Beat

I still suck at dancing, but now it’s about getting uncomfortable and challenging my need to look like I’m a competent human. It is hilarious and a blast. My friend Maureen and I laugh the whole time. She is better than me and so is everybody else, but no one seems bothered that I am so stiff and, well, awkward. I didn’t cry at the first lesson even though there were around 40 other people in the class all movin and groovin to the beat while I couldn’t find the beat. The instructors were remarkable and I actually started to believe I could very soon start to twirl in circles and be fabulous. 

Well, by soon I mean within the next 6 months or so. I’m not putting any pressure on it, I’m just here to embarrass myself and have fun. 

Isn’t that what mid-life crises are about?