I was at a wedding last weekend for a good family friend and I learned a sweet life lesson while enjoying a long weekend with my wife.  We spent 4 days away from the insanity of parenthood, which is always nice and the area of the country we visited (central coastalCalifornia) was unbelievably beautiful.  Coming from a dude who is “naturally insulated” for 65-70 degree weather versus 90 and humid, I really loved this region of the country! We attended the rehearsal dinner on Friday afternoon, retreated back to the hotel for some cocktails and relaxation and on Saturday morning I completed a 5 mile run along the coast, which beats the hell out of running on a treadmill at 545am on any Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday (as I typically do).  When I returned from my run everyone was flying around the hotel, so we grabbed a nice breakfast and started shuffling people to the groom’s house, the church and a few other places where people have to go during “wedding day”.

The ceremony went off without a hitch and approximately 100 people migrated to a spectacular resort on the coast.  We had drinks overlooking the ocean, enjoyed a stellar dinner and then the anxiety kicked in.  The DJ starts off slow (you know…a few bad slow songs, ease people in with some “Motown” and then it’s GO TIME).  The lights dim (even lower than before) and out come the Vegas style club songs.  Regardless of who is getting married, I typically watch the women bust to the floor and most of the guys hang back, drink and talk sports or business - pretending that we aren’t freaking out that our wives, girlfriends or dates will be coming over to the table with that look of, don’t you love me? If you really loved me- you would shake your money maker with me.  Someone pass me a pill-the anxiety is steadily increasing.

Anxiety kicks in because I am in a suit, I have the God given talent to break into a sweat while eating, so dancing in front of strangers and spraying sweat all over them isn’t typically a “cool” thing to do and when you dance at a wedding under these circumstances it becomes a painfully stiff shuffle back and forth to prevent the horror of having someone politely suggest that I “mop” my forehead because I resemble a runner at mile 12 of a half marathon.

All that aside- the music continued and I humoured my wife by dancing for a bit (yes, for a big dude, I can shake my stuff and I’ve got some mad skills), so I bounced along for 2 songs and then retreated for the safety of a cocktail and a chair at the dinner table.

As I made it back to the table I heard a small eruption of cheers as an LMFAO song comes on.  I know the song and although it’s “glow stick worthy”, I’ve never given the tune a standing-O, so I looked back at the floor a bit confused as to what was going on and realized the cheers were for the son of the groom who was in the process of going “all in” on the dance floor.  This dude was fired up and he let all hell fly onto the dance floor.  Arms flailing, jumping, and bouncing and then all of a sudden… EVERYONE was going crazy.  His willingness to be “fearless” on the dance floor and the flash mob he incited was infectious enough that I even decided to leave the cocktail behind and spend the next hour and a half jumping around like a complete jack-ass, but having an amazing time while doing it.

The point to this little ramble is simple.  Sometimes, if you are looking to find your rhythm (whether in work, school or on the dance floor at a friend’s wedding) you have to be willing to “let go” a bit and run the risk of looking like a fool, sweating on someone or blowing out a hammy while dancing to a club mix of LMFAO (like I did).  I know too many people who have sat at the metaphorical “dinner table” and regretted not getting out and dancing a bit.

My new found friend and dance machine was able to teach a lesson without even knowing it and I really appreciated it!  Dance like fools my friends, dance like fools (and let’s not kid ourselves-the women love a dude who is willing to dance)!