I had a wonderful time at the Ball last night. But there was a problem. At the end of the night, as my date was getting ready to board the shuttle to go home, I leaned in to give her the ceremonial peck on the cheek. Alas, I did not get her cheek. Rather, I hit the ear-flap on her warm winter hat (it was, after all, probably -10 degrees outside). This is not the first time this has happened. The last time I recall attempting to give a kiss on the cheek, I ended up swallowing a mouthful of hair instead. I think I'm aiming too far back. I just hope this is the sort of thing that is endearingly awkward, rather than sad.
The night wasn't a total loss. I progressively learned how to dance from pretty much a cold start at the beginning of the evening. By the end, I had cobbled together a half-respectable West Coast Swing. When I told a friend (who does know how to dance), she said "Congratulations! West Coast is hard!" This leads me to suspect that I wasn't actually dancing West Coast, but rather a mutant hybrid formed from half-baked Bar Mitzvah memories. But whatever it was, it was actually pretty good.
So, in conclusion, balls are fun. And don't lean too far forward.