“Today’s the big day, first ballroom dance lesson. This is definitely one of the stupidest ideas I’ve ever had.” I tap the message into my phone from the backseat of a paratransit car making its way through L.A. on a pleasantly warm June afternoon. Not expecting an immediate answer, I’m startled by the ding from my phone shortly after I hit send. The reply from my friend Heather feels way too perky for my current mood. “Oh, I’m so excited! Make sure to drink plenty of water. She’s gonna make you sweat.” With a roll of my nonexistent eyes, I drop my phone back into my lap, resigned with the fact that I have friends who refuse to join me in wallowing in my misery. Given Heather’s role in landing me in this predicament, I figure the least she could have done was indulge me and my pessimism.