I cannot recall who my last dance was with, or the song. It was definitely at Rooftop, a Kizomba session. Yes, that Rooftop in Mabonengthat was closed late in 2019 and reopened for one, it now seems, amazing Sunday in 2020.

Since 2015, Kizomba at Rooftop on a Sunday was a given, a must for me. It became a norm and so – over many months – this cherished place lost some of its attraction, but did it?

This is what people do to the simple things that bring joy into their life, they deem it regular. They act as if there will be another Sunday, and yes there was another Sunday, plenty in fact.

They act as if they have danced enough: I’ve been dancing since Rooftop started and well, I’ll come around next week, some would say.

Some of these dancers were even pompous when it came to that Kizomba party, or that Salsa party, even dance class was seen as something regular.

I must admit that I am guilty of these actions, of being pompous.

However, some parties were just not worth the petrol. The DJ mistimed his mix, the floor was not conducive for dancing and there were too few competent dancers. I digress; middling parties are a topic for another day.

After this lockdown, and when the virus dissipates, I’m going to attend as many classes and parties as I can. I will take plenty of pictures of the ladies I dance with and videos of those dancing salsa, because, as you know, Salsa is not my thing.

Yes it’s a bit much taking pics of every woman you dance with but it will be done. Also, I think it’s the lockdown talking.

You see, Facebook reminds me every other week of an event and when that happens, the FOMO is all too real. The smiling faces of the strangers that became friends are certainly not ordinary, and I miss them, I miss that camaraderie.

Watching these Facebook videos you can almost feel the synergy, almost. Why did I ever think this was routine?

The music, that Kizomba beat, it’s like a magnet to my soul. And this battered soul needs that balm. Live.

I’m not happy watching or being reminded every week about what I had, what we had. Facebook is rather spiteful.

Wait, I’m not in love, this is not a breakup! Or is it?

I want to pull that lady close (but gently because Kizomba basics 101) and feel her passion, get a whiff of her perfume and experience that extraordinary delight when we move to the beat.

That Sunday I last danced, the lady I cannot remember, I hope we can meet again at that place and contribute to a new era of dance, an era of recurring enjoyment and appreciation.

Yes, that’s what we need, recurring appreciation.