I have to confess, I have bailed on my ballroom dancing classes. My fantasies of "Come Dancing" and wearing sequins in Blackpool have bitten the dust, albeit temporarily.
After the catastrophe of the initial class, things never did totally recover. I wasn't learning anything and simply wasn't having fun. 90% of the time, due to lack of male participants, I had to "lead" - the 5'8" husky frame may have had something to do with the typecasting on that I think. The classes became tortuous - I won't go into details.
Ironically if this had been the boy a few years ago, wanting to bail out of an extra curricular activity I had paid for, I would have forced him to attend regardless. Immune to tears, pleading and associated threats. I am such a hypocrite.
The beauty of being a grown-up is we can have our childish little trantrums, stamp our feet, change our minds a million times, never complete what we start - and no one is going to stop us or tell us any differently. I wonder how many wars and "international incidents" could have been prevented if only Mommies (and daddies) still ruled the world. "No Adolf, you can't have Poland...now go to your room."
I still plan one day to take classes in ballroom, but I think a smaller private class will be more to my tastes and comfort level.