Footloose on the Bridal Path : A bride-to-be admits her own lack of grace and concludes private lessons would be well worth the money.

I slammed my empty pint glass down on the table and said, “OK, let’s get this thing over with.”

It wasn’t enough that I had quit a decent job, given up my apartment, left my family, friends and hometown in Upstate New York to move 3,000 miles away. Now he wanted me to take dance lessons.

Understand, I am not a dainty person. I spent the majority of my youth climbing trees, sliding into third base and using Barbie dolls as hand grenades while taking Iwo Jima in my neighbor’s back yard. I have always abhorred makeup, dresses, stockings and anything a nice, well-behaved young girl might do. That includes dancing.

But it was time to be realistic. Next year we are going to be the center of attention while we take our first spin around the dance floor as husband and wife. Ed was right. We needed professional help.

After three lessons, things were going a lot better than I had dreamed possible. Our dance instructor, Natalie Mavor, had been very nice and extremely patient. She told us to practice and come back for a final mixer, where we could strut our stuff with other students. Easier said than done.

Ed works days, I work nights. Our apartment is not the ideal dance floor, with bikes, golf bags, basketballs and attacking cats to dodge while trying not to run into the coffee table and counting the basic turns and dips.

Nevertheless, we returned for the party. There were two other couples, about eight singles and six instructors. We were introduced all around.

It was hideous. I had worked later than usual the night before and only had about four hours of sleep. Whatever I had learned was gone. I am not a good dancer, even under ideal conditions, but now I was also tired, grumpy and as graceful as an ox.

Finally, only the instructors would dance with Ed and me, so we wouldn’t injure the innocent. If one more of them had smiled broadly and said, “You’re doing fine, just fine,” I would not have been responsible for my actions. I was terrible and I knew it.

The party served its purpose, though. I am now ready to shell out big bucks just to learn one simple dance and save face in front of family and friends. But I’ll be darn sure they will be private lessons.

WHERE TO GO

What: Dance Boulevard. Location: 9913 Topanga Canyon Blvd., Chatsworth. Price: Two private lessons and one group lesson for $24.95; a 15-hour package costs $250. Call: (818) 772-6070.