The Dance

I wrote this last summer, but it seems appropriate to post on Valentine's Day.

I glanced over my shoulder and felt a twinge of envy. I want to do that. It’s been so long and was so much fun. There in the middle of the park was a couple, smiling, laughing, oblivious to others around them while they danced. They were the only ones swing dancing to a toe-tapping tune being played by two guitarists on the performance platform on one side of the park.

It was a beautiful, warm summer evening. Not many people were listening to the mini-concert. A few vendors had tents at the other end of the park while most of the activity centered on the children’s play area. From my perch on a picnic table bench, I looked back at the two-story jungle gym to make sure I could still see my three year-old grandson, Benjamin, dashing up the climbing rocks, running across the castle bridge and squealing with delight as he slid down the winding tunnel slide. Red-faced and happy, he glanced over at me to make sure I was where I was supposed to be.
When I first met Scott, we danced a lot. I owned a dating service, a business I started in early 1990. Many said the business was self-serving since I met two of my husbands over the years I was involved with the Singles Resource Center. Scott was the last. We met at a Christmas function held at my home and later would encounter each other at the Friday night dances. Scott was an excellent dancer having honed his skill as a teen with lots of practice. It paid off when he became the center of attention at high school dances. He loved being the center of attention and he still does.

When we danced it was usually a slow dance; the kind of dance that somehow became more than just a dance. The steps couldn’t be labeled, because there was more sensual swaying than choreography. I leaned into him and could always smell his cologne. I’d caress the back of his neck as he held me close.

 He left me to swing and line dance with other partners and friends. He wasn’t possessive, but he was on a mission to win me over with charisma, charm and slow dancing. At one point I told him, “You’d be perfect if you weren’t a smoker.” He won me over anyway and I married the perfectly imperfect man. Scott continued smoking for many more years, even after five-way heart bypass surgery.

We don’t dance any more. Scott’s smoking finally caught up with him and he now has the lungs of a four year-old supporting the body of a two hundred and forty-five pound man. It’s a struggle for him to move at all.

How do I feel about how our lives together have evolved? Prior to meeting Scott, I actually prayed for a man who would love me with his whole heart, unconditionally, if that was even humanly possible. In previous relationships, I had spent much too much time trying to prove my worth and not getting what I needed in return. Over the years as a single working mother, I finally learned I could survive on my own and I had value as a person.

Independence became a priority. I wanted to maintain that status, but was still seeking love. Someone once told me, “What you need is a man you can take out of the closet when you need him.”  Instead, I was given the gift of Scott, and so far I haven’t been able to keep him in any closet!

It is still amazing to me that I don’t even question his love and never have. He loves me beyond what I deserve and tells me that every day. He’s supported my endeavors throughout our marriage, whether it was listening to me unload about responsibilities working for the State or encouraging my start-up business ideas after I retired. He’s accepted my daughters and loves them as his own.

He’s still perfectly imperfect and that has become more apparent as the years go by. Now and then, he also points out my imperfections, so we have lots in common, but what’s important is that I still have my independence and I have Scott’s love, exactly what I asked for.  Do I wish life were different at times? Of course, particularly for Scott. He often says, “You didn’t sign up for this (his health issues).”

“Yes, I did,” is my truthful reply.

We now do a dance of a different kind. He leans on me and that’s really okay.