Dancing.

Last week, Shane and I were watching a particularly boring movie (in my opinion, anyway.) I tried to keep myself awake to the credits.

The credits finally rolled, and a super fun, dance-y song started playing. Shane jumped up and jovially asked me if I wanted to dance.

I was ecstatic. Shane and I had never really danced before, unless you count some buzzed nights at nightclubs, and that's not really dancing as much as... well, you've seen drunk people dancing. You know what it looks like. Anyway, I jumped up at the proposition.

Unfortunately, instead of taking my waist and dancing with me, he picked up Dance Central for our XBox360.

I sat back down, winded. I was sure we were going to have this insanely romantic, disgustingly cute moment where we'd dance together, kiss, and then the dog would jump between us and we'd let him give us puppy kisses. Then our cat would come into the room and, even though she and the dog don't really get along all the time, she and the dog would cuddle up together and we'd all be a happy family.

This was just a fantasy.

In a few minutes, when the game started up, I'd already forgotten about my lost dream and danced to Lady Gaga.

Dance Central 1, Me 0.