Sometime last summer, a group of my coworkers and I were out barhopping. We found ourselves at a country bar and were having a really good time. At one point a coworker of mine asked to dance. I can’t remember the song, but it was one that you’d swing dance to. I politely declined, explaining to her that I didn’t know how to swing.
In short, I lied.
Back in college, the fall of 1994 to be exact, one of my roommates was off on a co-op work assignment. I was very good friends with his girlfriend, Monica. She was intelligent, sweet, funny, and beautiful. We spent a lot of time together, and of course, I enjoyed every minute of it.
Monica lived in a less-than-savory neighborhood and was justifiably afraid to be home alone. Consequently, I found myself spending almost every night at her house. We would watch movies, play games, and talk for hours on end. One Friday night we picked up a twelve pack of Icehouse and imbibed as we listened to the local country music station. I think we were about halfway through the beer when Alan Jackson’s Chattahoochee began playing.
“Let’s dance!” Monica squealed as she tried pulling me off the couch.
I informed her that I didn’t know how to swing, but she just smiled and said, “It’s easy, I’ll show you!”
We somehow managed to get through the song and it was decided that I needed more practice. Monica pulled out A Lot About Livin’ and a Little ‘Bout Love and put Chattahoochee on repeat. The next hour or so melted into a wonderful daze of stumbling, laughing, and learning. When we got tired of dancing we sat in her backyard and talked until the sun came up. Afterward, we lay on her bed and she fell asleep in my arms. For the first time in my life, I genuinely fell in love.
Time, as it must, marched on. Monica and my roommate broke up, but much to his dismay, she and I remained very close friends. I loved her more and more every time we saw each other, and although my heart ached, I never said a word. Her friendship meant far too much for me to jeopardize by trying to become her lover. Sadly, once college was finished and I was forced to take residence in the real world, we fell out of touch. However, she still holds a special place in my heart, and to this day I will not swing to a country song, for fear of diluting the memory of that perfect night.
A couple of weeks ago I was out with friends when I spotted a familiar face in the crowd. I walked over and Monica flashed the most amazing smile as she threw her arms around me. We both ignored our friends and snuck away to a private table. We drank and talked for quite some time. She spoke of her husband and daughter while I mentioned the night she taught me to swing. She laughed and said that it was one of her fondest memories. Suddenly, all of my old feelings for her flooded my head, and since I was well on my way to being drunk, I just blurted everything out… How I fell in love that night and why I never told her. What happened next was completely unexpected and will haunt me forever.
A most pained expression fell upon her and tears started streaming down her face. In a voice barely audible over the crowd, she said, “I wish you had told me.” I had no words to offer her as I wept openly. I was in complete agony with the revelation that my life could be very different right now. We parted ways awkwardly, and although we exchanged emails and promised to keep in touch, I doubt I’ll hear from her again.
Last summer, my best friend introduced me to one of his coworkers, Tanya. She is intelligent, sweet, funny, and beautiful. We’ve become very good friends and spend a lot of time together. For the second time in my life, I’ve fallen in love.
We made plans to go out dancing on Thursday and if Tanya asks me to dance while a swing is playing, I’ll say yes.
And this time I’m gonna say how I feel before it’s too late.
