My girlfriend had been urging me to go salsa dancing with her for weeks. I just assumed she was on a salsa kick. Then I began to see more of salsa: salsa bands, salsa lessons, salsa dance partner want ads.

Why do the women love salsa so much? Is this some elaborate plan for Latin Americans to steal the hearts of every woman in Lawrence through their seductive moves and hypnotic rhythms? What is this salsa?

I decided to investigate.

Fortunately, the KU Ballroom Dance Club hosts a salsa class every Friday night. I called my girlfriend and told her to wear something flashy. We were going to salsa.

I approached the Hashinger Hall dance studio and heard the exotic sounds of trumpets, congo drums and cow bells booming from within. My pelvis started swaying instantly. Or maybe it was quivering. Either way, I was under the spell.

I entered the tiny room and was struck by a wave of energy. Dozens of people filled this tiny box of glossed wood and mirrors. There were students, old folks and really old folks. Everyone was moving back and forth in fluid, sexy motions—even the senior citizens.

We started out learning the salsa step. I was instructed to keep my left arm extended while holding my partner’s right hand. My right hand was to remain directly under my partner’s left armpit and directly behind her left boob. This didn’t seem so bad.

Then I moved my left foot forward, then back next to my right foot. Then I moved my right foot backward, then back next to my left foot. I’d mastered the salsa step. I could go home now.

Then the instructor showed us how to do the mambo step. Then the rumba step.

Whoa. I did not sign up for this. I agreed to the salsa and that was it. What was up with all these other moves? Salsa was more complicated than I had expected. I began to sweat. I gritted my teeth. I grumbled. I became a very unpleasant dance partner.

Things got a little more enticing once we started with the twirls. It was amazing. All I had to do was spin my partner and we looked pretty damn good. I tried incorporating a spin into every move. My girlfriend got dizzy. I had to stop. It was back to looking like an oaf for me.

I enjoyed the second half much more. We started out by forming two circles. The music began. We each did a few steps, then, in some magical move that I never got quite right, we switched partners. I got to dance with almost everyone there. I was a little apprehensive about every other guy putting their sweaty hands directly under my girlfriend’s left armpit and directly behind her left boob.

But the switcheroo circle soon turned into my favorite part. I met more people in that one hour than I usually do in an entire semester.

“With salsa, everyone changes partners naturally,” says Jorge Ortiz, former KU Ballroom Dance Club president and salsa instructor. “It is embedded in the dance.”

As Nico Jaumard, Moissac, France, graduate student, and Emily Moisan, Saint Charles, Mo., graduate student, have proven, these lessons are a great place to find love. The two met through the KU Ballroom Dance Club about two years ago. Now they teach a salsa class together and plan to marry this August.

Salsa lessons are also a great way for couples to break away from normal dating activities. Shane Kanter, Overland Park sophomore, and Emma Casey, Overland Park freshman, decided they were going to get in better shape together this year by “dancersizing.”

Then there are the people who just go to dance.

Kaitlin Dozier, Fredonia freshman, goes to the weekly salsa lessons with her girlfriends. “I like to get all my classy dancing done on Friday and leave all my frisky dancing for Saturday,” Dozier says.

As I finished the lesson, I couldn’t understand how anyone could do this every week. I was sweaty. I was tired. I’d touched dozens of clammy palms. All I wanted was a shower and a cold beer.

“You started looking a lot better there at the end,” my girlfriend says.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for taking me. I had fun.”

Maybe there is something to this whole salsa thing.