Young and Fun

 

A Fantasy Come True (sort of)

It was a sweltering early summer night. I was at a fundraising party for my riding facility with my husband. I wanted to dance, even though I have a minor disability and use a cane to walk.

When my husband refused to dance with me because it was too hot, I said “fine” and went out on the dance floor by myself to join a crowd of dancers. I had been watching a group of young people tear up the dance floor. I walked up to a tall, handsome guy who was about 20 years younger than me. He had some serious moves and was drenched in sweat. I told him my husband wouldn’t dance. The group was doing some choreographed dance like the macarena. My partner took me under his wing and helped me learn the moves. This was more like keeping me moving in the right direction since I couldn’t really move my feet like I was supposed to. There was a lot of head bobbing and hip shaking because I’m good at that. I am really a trained dancer who is no longer able to dance because of a disability. I may have a movement disorder, but I never lost my dancer spirit. It will always be a part of who I am. I broke out in a sweat and had a great time. Before I snared my tall young dancer, he was swarmed by attractive, young, agile girls. He was very kind to take the time to work with an older, lame woman. We danced into the night. We were pretty drunk, especially tall, young, handsome Matt. He had a younger brother who was handsome and had the moves, as well. I danced with them both. In my imagination, I was still a dancer and had fancy moves.

There was no conversation between me and Matt. I’m not sure we exchanged names, even. I figured out he was the son of one of the wealthy board members of the stable where I ride through some clever sleuthing.

I didn’t see him again until the same annual event the following year. By then, my husband had officially checked out of the marriage (he was unofficially out for years), and I was attending with a boyfriend who didn’t like to dance at all. Matt was drunk and tearing it up again. My boyfriend didn’t mind that I seemed to have a dance partner already.

This time, I didn’t require as much holding up and steering in the right direction since it was more freestyle dancing than the first night we met out on the floor. Another year passed without seeing each other.

I have met up with Matt twice more. Over the years, it became clear that I shouldn’t be making a life with someone who doesn’t like to dance. I mean, what is wrong with them?

This year, the event took place this past weekend. I attended with a boyfriend who has become a steady, meaningful relationship. He loves music, and will dance because I want to. I warned him ahead of time that I have an annual tradition of dancing with Matt.

I danced with my boyfriend first to be polite. Matt was nowhere to be found. I asked my riding instructor where he was, and expressed concern that he wasn’t on the dance floor. He was standing behind us talking to a young woman. My instructor suggested that maybe he hadn’t had enough to drink yet.

Finally, I spotted him on the floor with his usual entourage. He looked sufficiently lit up. I left my cane with my boyfriend and carefully walked over to Matt. We were thrilled to see each other. He gave me a huge hug and a kiss. He asked how I’ve been. He told me I looked great. I had him lean down so he could hear me over the music. I said, “I can’t go home until I dance with you!” He turned around and went to get his cute brother, and told me I was dancing with everyone. We briefly reminisced about our history of about 5 years running meeting up once a year to dance together. He was impressed that I knew all the lyrics to the music.

It was hard to hear each other, but he did get in my ear and told me “I love you.” I pulled him down to me and told him, “I love you more”. It seemed so natural and genuine if odd for only seeing each other a few times in as many years.

He took a selfie of us together and texted it to me. Egads, now I had his number! In consideration of the guy I went to the party with, I decided not to text Matt back with comments which would reflect the fanasies I was having about him that involved dancing and more.

The next day, I stalked him online since I knew practically nothing about him. I found him on Facebook. I noticed that he was engaged to a young woman. How could this be? We are in love. He did accept my friend request, and I sent him an inane message about having so much fun at the party with him.

See you next year, babe. I love you.