They say life is a dance. Funny that some lessons are learned on the dance floor…

When I go to a salsa dance class, the routine is for the men and women to make two large circles, one inside the other with pairs matched up. After working on a few steps, the instructor asks either the men or women to rotate to try with a new partner.

So for one minute I’ll work on the “cross body lead with inside turn” with a tall, athletic woman. A minute later the instructor yells “follows rotate!”, and a short, petite woman comes over. After her, it’s a spunky senior citizen.

Hearing the descriptions of these various partners, one might jump to conclude who they’d prefer to partner with. But I’ll tell you that for the most part, I have no clue with whom I’ll match well.

That 60+ year old lady in my class moves with me like she knows my thoughts. Dancing is smooth, in sync, and we attempt a new step with gusto. And that tall, athletic woman? She’s a great dancer. But not with me. Stuttered and awkward.

As the lead, I take the blame, but the truth is that there’s an element of chemistry that we aren’t in control of–whether dance or any other interaction. Dance is analogous to all our interpersonal relations. We like to have control–and we assume we do–and so blame ourselves when dancing or work or a date isn’t going well.

Without this realization that some people will click with us more than others, it’s easy to get down on ourselves when others don’t like us. This was made apparent in a comical way on Seinfeld. The obsessive, erratic, and insecure character George Costanza is talking with his girlfriend Karen about an acquaintance of his who he fears dislikes him for some unknown reason. He had just done her a favor to get her to like him, but he was upset because she didn’t offer him a thank you.

GEORGE: I wanna know what I did to this woman.

KAREN: What difference does it make? Who cares if she doesn’t like you? Does everybody in the world have to like you?

GEORGE: Yes! Yes! Everybody has to like me. I must be liked!

Lack of wisdom in this regard sprouts insecurity–as well as stress of wishing everyone does like you.

With some we’ll hit it off; with others we won’t. Until I learned this from dance, I thought someone not responding well to me meant I had a problem. The realization that that is not the case is a relief.

And how fun it is when we find that random person with whom we just “click”!