Offering fine advice since 2007  The Texanist Dance hall guilt,
faded accents, SUVs with “Truck” plates. Illustration by Jack
Unruh  Q: My husband and I go dancing almost every weekend, but
I end up dancing with his best buddy more than I do with him.
His friend is just a better dancer, and there’s no hanky-panky
going on, but I’m starting to feel guilty. Do I need to stick
with the one that brung me? Name Withheld  A: The conventional
wisdom would have you reserve your dance card for him that brung
you, yes, but the conventional wisdom would also have you stop
at five tequilas and refrain from trying to “sit in” with the
band as guest vocalist on the “Cotton-Eyed Joe.” Where’s the fun
in that? The Texanist learned how to navigate a dance floor from
overbearing junior cotillion chaperones at the Knights of
Columbus hall in Temple. (Another flaw in the conventional
wisdom: Back then the one that brung you was often your mom.)
These ladies instilled in him a firm conviction that dance cards
are made to be fille