Zumba

It’s Friday, January 26th, 2018. The time is approximately 5:30pm. Sean’s in the kitchen. I’m in the living room. Sean looks up from a brief glance at his Facebook newsfeed.

“Oh, hey. Tara’s teaching Zumba tomorrow at YouFit. We should go.”

We? This is delicate territory. Either Sean has no clue what Zumba is, or after five years together, I have somehow completely misinterpreted his feelings toward dancing. If it’s the former, I must be careful about what I say. This could all come crumbling down.

“Sounds great. Let’s go.”

Fast forward to Saturday morning. As we walk into YouFit, Sean says, “I’m kind of nervous. Is Zumba really hard?”

“You’ll do great.”

We walk in and are immediately greeted by Tara.

“Are you doing it too?” she asks Sean, looking perplexed.

Tara and I have a silent telepathic conversation with each other.

Me: Damn, girl. Be cool. He doesn’t know what Zumba is. This is gonna be hilarious.
Tara: 'ight, my b. Let’s do this.

We walk in to a room filled with women. Sean looks at me as if to say, “Why are there no men here?” It becomes clear. My suspicions were right. He has no clue what Zumba is. We are in for a fun hour.

One of the other women walks over to him.

“Let me guess. This is your first time?”

Sean nods nervously.

“You’ll do great. Just give yourself to the music.”

Sean gives me the death stare.

Through Despacito, Havana, the booty shakes, the shimmies – oh, the shimmies – he’s a real champ. As soon as we return to the car, he turns to me and says, “I have a proposal. What if we begin weaning ourselves off Whole30 today? I need alcohol.”

He’s earned it. (Also I’m really effing over Whole30.)

“I’m in.”