The highlight of the Oleen wedding, outside of witnessing best friends make a promise to each other before God until death do them part, was the two-stepping.
I went solo. I’m as much of a dancer as I am a natural blonde. Maybe it just came to me when I was three, but it didn’t hang around long.
It started with the traditional dollar dance. I said to the groom, “So it only costs a dollar to dance with a cowboy?” There was some banter and I moved on as the song changed.
Shortly later, about ten couples were dancing independently yet in an attractive, orderly fashion. My interest was peaked, I wanted to try. The Kansasans call it two-stepping.
I learned each guy does it a little differently. Garrett was the first to take me out on the floor and he said, “One, two, two. One, two, two. One, two, two.” Josh was next, he said it’s easier if we just dance close (smooth). He said, “Right, left, right. Right, left right,” to the rhythm. Porkchop was next. He said, “Tap, step, step. Tap, step, step.”
I just wanted these men to make up their mind on their two-stepping terminology. Focusing on rhythm was challenging enough for me, let alone thinking about vocabulary too.
I had finally learned and been smiling for hours when a stranger took my hand. Fortunately I had enough two-stepping under my sewn in, color coordinating belt to keep performing and talk. Don’t laugh, that’s much harder than it sounds.
He was a cowboy hat wearing, beef cattle loving, kind of guy. I noticed that when I miss-stepped, said something about pork, or otherwise controversial, he’d push back for some swinging. His effort to be smooth was post-swinging when he’s pull you back in a little closer each time.
I was happy and getting very tired, so I grabbed my jacket to head back to my room when Josh pulled me back out on the floor for the last few songs. Josh gave me the encouragement to keep trying and he really made it fun.
A big thanks to my cowboy hat wearing, Red Dirt listening, two-stepping friends! I’d summarize the evening as very “Hope Floats” esque. And who doesn’t like some floating hope?