Empty Dance Floor

The band is tuning up as the occasional discordant note and gentle cymbal crash wander through the air. The lights are down, but the floor is still empty. The polished, level wood waits expectantly for the shuffling, stepping feet. Around the perimeter, there is contented murmuring and milling as the attendees cluster together, disperse, and reform. It's as if the empty space is offering an invitation, but nobody is listening. It's almost time for the dance to start...

As usual, I'm looking for a “follow”. The initial resistance is the greatest, right? There's nothing to asking but to ask, yet I drag my feet.

My usual downfall was obtaining a follow. Occasionally I'd take the easy way out by bringing my own, but usually I'd have to find the nerve to ask a young lady to dance with me. Meeting everyone helped me ask a friend rather than a stranger, but asking the first time was still hard. Once I was on the floor once, I would be good for the rest of the night. I'd never lack a partner for every dance I didn't sit out. Getting started remained the hurdle to clear.

Anticipation kills, yet is exciting in its own way.

We were all talking about swing, right? Man, I miss swing. I think it's been over a year since I've been dancing.

I guess I do need to go again. I might have to set aside some Friday or Sunday night, demarcating it as “going out”. We'll see...

"I'm learning to walk again/I believe I've waited long enough
Where do I begin?
I'm learning to talk again/Can't you see I've waited long enough
Where do I begin?"
-Foo Fighters, “Walk” (though our worship team's cover was better)

(I'm pretty sure I was talking about swing...)