So occasionally when the planets, moons, and schedules line up the wife type being I live with and I like to do things "together." I've found that interrogation style manipulation doesn't seem to work as well on her as it does military people trying to convince me that the bike they just bought was stolen and that we should pay them the whole hundred bucks for it.
So I, in my infinite wisdom suggested we take some kind of dancing class. She's a chick most of the time, and chicks dig dancing, right? I figured that I'd plant that idea into her head, let it stew for a while, and slowly move the conversation and suggestions to a form of dance that I could stomach, if not actually enjoy. I may, or may not have said it, but I'm kind of a fan of the 20~50s era. Or rather the fashion, music, and dance at the very least. So I slowly started playing more Sinatra and Martin, put out my suit to wear, that kind of thing.
So over the past two hours I've been on and off the phone with her deciding what we'll be doing. I've been suggesting swing, and she's been suggesting para para. Para para is that seizure inducing teeny dance thing from Japan that anime endings are animated as and basically Dance Dance Revolution without the cover of being a video game.
It was a very democratic process, let me tell you. We both voted on which we would rather do, tried to convince the other, and with a fair vote she won with the majority of the 1-1 votes, apparently. I blame the margin of error. So, my weekend is spoken for. Anyone else wishing the world would end in the next twelve hours?