The other night was perhaps our fifth consecutive night of quickstep practice. You might think that because we have been working on it so much, we harbor some fondness towards the dance.
But no. At this point, our quickstep is highly questionable.
I have my suspicions as to why quickstep inevitably falls apart. Being tall, it can be difficult to maintain control over long limbs in such a bouncy dance. More fundmentally, our general skepticism of quickstep is problematic. I feel silly hopping around the floor, which compels me to either give into the cheesiness of quickstep, or dance through the routine like a tango. I am not sure which is worse.
Both Sarah and I look for deeper meaning in the things we do (especially Sarah, the philosophy major and general skeptic). If we were to simply accept quickstep for what it is, in all of its springy glory, then perhaps we would be onto something.
The weirdest aspect to me personally is how, a couple of years ago, tango and quickstep were my strongest dances. As a youth dancer, I despised foxtrot (although admittedly in large part due to how much all the “good” dancers enjoyed foxtrot). Now, dancing with Sarah, foxtrot is one of my favorite dances. I can’t help but wonder if, in my growing up, I have “traded” my affinity for quickstep with foxtrot. To those who understand these two dances, this might make sense. Still, it is very puzzling to me.
Nonetheless, by the end of the practice, I felt optimistic for quickstep. Once we can infuse the power, stronger frame, and better position we have been working on in the other dances into quickstep, we will have made leaps and bounds in our competitive goals (Unlike Sarah, I love puns, and most of mine will be intended).