Last Saturday night, while my husband was out of town, I danced with another man.

In fact, I danced with four or five other men.

Don’t be shocked.

I went out salsa dancing with two girl friends and we had a blast. Sure, I organize Moms’ Nights Out from time to time but this was most definitely a Girls Night Out. We got all sparkly and glammed up. We put our high heels on (well, they did.)

In truth, we had no clue what we were walking into, having picked out the Havana Salsa Club from a basic Google search. It could have been a total sleazefest filled with Lotharios on the hunt for some action. Instead, it was a room filled with perfectly normal people, some new to salsa dancing, some experts and everyone focused on having a grand old time on the dance floor. Once you get over the awkward fact that you have to hold a stranger’s hand, and have their hand on your hip, essentially forcing proximity usually outside the boundaries of personal space, then it’s all good. It’s so easy to forget all that and just get into the rhythm. As long as no-one steps on your toes or flings you headlong into the sweaty masses. We three survived without sustaining any injuries other than tired feet and aching legs.

If you’ve read my Twitter bio, you’d know that I describe myself as “happiest when dancing.” I’ve even blogged about my desperate search for a dance partner. Because I need to dance. And Saturday night reminded me – as I merengued with Bertrand and salsa’d with other nameless men – that dancing feeds my soul. It fills my tank. Makes me feel womanly, I guess. It’s also a crazy good workout.

What’s interesting is that we three girls all went out dancing without our husbands but with their consent. In between dancing – as we were sipping on sangria, wiping the sweat from our brows and wondering which of us would get asked to dance next – we imagined how our men would fit into this setting. It went a little something like this:

• My husband would probably prefer to be somewhere else but would come if I really begged him to because he knows how much I love to dance
• Husband #2 would likely feel threatened by his wife dancing with other men
• Husband #3 would totally act like he knew what he was doing, whether he did or not.

Ha! Still, we agreed that we had to come back and do it again – soon. With or without our husbands. With flat shoes to change into at the end of the night. With water bottles. And with confidence, flair and a whole lot of fun!

Join us?