Cookies to Cha-Cha About
When my husband and I first met, he wooed me with dancing — even though both of us have two left feet and moves that win more points for sympathy than grace.
We had been friends for a short span, when he asked me to be his swing-dance partner, as he wanted to take lessons.
I had always wanted to learn, so I eagerly said, “Yes!”
We’d meet after work once a week at a local club for lessons. Each week, we’d master a new step or turn — much to our own amazement.
After more than a month, we’d not only become semi-decent on the dance floor, hand in hand, but we’d also started dating.
Flash-forward to after our engagement: With our relationship more serious now, my soon-to-be husband feels the need to tell me that when he asked me to be his dance partner way back when, it wasn’t a scam, nor any kind of scheming on his part to find an excuse to ask me out. Oh no, he merely needed a dance partner. That was it, plain and square.
Flash-forward again to shortly after our wedding: I’m sitting on an airplane, flying home from Chicago with a gabby male seatmate next to me. He tells me a funny story about how he met his wife, then asks me how I met my husband. I tell him about the dancing lessons, and how my husband had asked me to be his partner on pure innocent whim.
My seatmate recoils in laughter, then looks me square in the eyes: “Your husband told you THAT? Listen to me — there is no way any man is going to take dancing lessons without an ulterior motive. Trust me on that!”
