..being a dancer and memorizing dance steps are just not in my DNA. Last weekend also marked as the weekend where I finally meet H's parents. Also the weekend where I (tried to) dance poco-poco and failed miserably. Oh the humility.
H and I made up (not make-out). The reward was meeting his parents, or more like his dad wanted to meet me and hear me belting out tunes during a karaoke session (how untraditional and unconservative), of which I profusely and politely declined. I don't want to scare the old man by croaking my voice out. Yes, I croak. Shamans in Africa should hire me in case their crops need rain. That was before knowing that he's going to take us to Treehouse at Damansara Uptown and also before I made the fool of myself by thinking that I could dance or rather I made myself believed that I could dance. Haissshh, some people are just not meant to be so well co-ordinate and graceful la.
Overall both of them are bunch of sporting parents and not as scary as I initially thought and H was so proud of me for behaving so well (and so he said).
I am touched. Ngeh ngeh.