25 Years of Love

25 Years of Love

(ROCKWALL, TX — February 8, 2018) A few months ago my wife’s boss had a birthday and invited us to her celebration. It was my busy time of the year so I was game for anything, well, except for salsa dancing.

Yep, that was the birthday plan, go to a restaurant in Dallas that shut off its stoves at bedtime and opened its dance floor for fast feet. I was sworn, already committed, an oath had been taken, and nothing short of the flu would get me out of it.

Now, for those new to my musings, you don’t know how fish-out-of-water this is for me. I’m not suave, debonair, or great at romantic things. Angie will tell you I’m not very affectionate, so aside from having a slight penchant for poetry, I struggle to be Casanova. Simply put, Fred Astaire was not going to be in the building.  But, I love my wife and I wanted her to have fun, so I got a waiver from the International Manly-Man Club, and watched a salsa tutorial on YouTube. We crammed in a 20-minute practice session before we headed to the club, and by that time I had convinced myself I wasn’t half bad. I mean, just like the guy described, it was just a fancy way of walking to the beat, right?

I was a rhythmic wasteland, two left feet that stepped on everything but the floor while bumping into dodging waiters. We laughed till we were nearly in tears, which has been our relationship for nearly 30 years. Since our first fateful night we were scheduled to work, we’ve giggled, chuckled, and doubled-over cackling together. We find hilarity in each other and in life and it has guarded our relationship against the incredible pain the world throws at you. So, strapping on the dancing shoes that night might have been quite self-deprecating, but it gave my wife the giggles, and joy in a relationship is nothing but good.

She asked me, “Sincerely, did you have fun?” Now that was a tough question, and I pondered it for a bit – was it fun? I mean, for me fly fishing is fun, stalking gobbling turkeys is fun, camping in wilderness is fun, but dancing? Was dancing fun?

“I had fun watching you have fun,” was my answer. It was time together with my sweetheart, and she had a great time, so I had a great time. And that has been another one of those mainstays in our marriage that has made it strong. Sure, we have our own little things we like to do. Angie has a friend she gets manicures with (not me) and does “girly things” and I’m completely fine with that. I like wandering in wild places, getting my hands dirty, bringing food from field to table and she’s quite okay not being there. Yet, outside of those things, we are each other’s pastime. We sit together and read, watch each other’s movies (she watched the mountain man classic, Jeremiah Johnson, with me the other night, truly romantic), and venture nearly everywhere together. She’s my best friend, I mean, why wouldn’t we hang out all the time?

That night in the restaurant, there was bound to be a person entertained by watching the rhythm-void guy dancing to his own drumbeat, bumbling over his date.  But what he didn’t know was he was watching a fairytale romance, a relationship that’s weathered the toughest storms and come out stronger.  For sure salsa’s not my thing, but I’d do it again as long as I’d be with my girl, and together we’d laugh all the way.

By Scott Gill of Rockwall. Scott is a teacher, coach, and author of “Goliath Catfish.” Follow Scott’s blog at puptentpapa.blogspot.com and read his “Front Porch Ramblings” at BlueRibbonNews.com.

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