Hypothetically, how did it go?
Perhaps the expectation level had already risen a tad too high when I returned from her place of employment, flashed my poolside family a thumbs up and then cowered as they erupted in cheers. The whoops were deafening as they bounced off water and tile.

I slept fitfully and no one will ever know if it was because my sister was about to get married or if it was due to the date that may or may not count. Looking back, I'm a little embarrassed that it may have been the latter. A crush that lasted longer than a Metro stop has to be some sort of modern-day record for me. Admittedly, it was probably fueled by the fact that for once I had taken at least some action rather than sitting silently averting my eyes. Or maybe my mule into the Grand Canyon had jarred feeling loose again. Whatever it was, I created a drama that wouldn't unfold, at least not in a night where the eyes were deservedly on my sister and her new husband.

Once seating worked out and the lovely woman was eating dinner beside me, my conversational wizardry was unable to hold her interest for long. I was painfully aware that I was no match for her orthodontist*. When the much anticipated dancing finally arrived, I had already conceded that there was no reason for me to hang around her end of the dance floor and hope like a 7th-grader that maybe we'd dance. I felt a twinge of guilt that soon passed as I managed to find dance partner after dance partner. In a rare move for me, I abandoned "riding the pony" and the infamous "Stayin' Alive Disco manuever" for partner dancing. The moments of silliness were still there and I stepped on more feet than usual, but I had a good time and I have to think that others did too. I rhumba-ed with former neighbors, tango-ed with long lost pals, dipped cousins, do-si-doed Uncles, butt-bounced Aunts, and spun anyone I could, even the beautiful bride.

Lest you think I completely forgot my date, I did squeeze in one, a little swing that made it all worthwhile. Somewhere there while we were spinning to Glenn Miller, I caught that smile- the real genuine fantastic sort of smile that melts yours truly. How did it go? In that instant, with those big brown eyes about to spin away and those fine pearly whites gleaming (my thanks to the orthodonist after all) it went splendidly, thank you.


*That's no metaphor, he was the Maid of Honor's Dad.