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Last Tuesday, my former co-workers Victor and Erick appeared at swing dancing, and some of their students were there as well. They were a middle-aged couple who had recently become engaged, and they were both extremely wealthy. My association with the instructors made me eligible for shots of high-end tequila and free chocolate martinis. Once I introduced Ryan to the couple, he was getting free drinks as well. It wasn't long before we were all explaining our connections and laughing and celebrating. The man, Tom, asked if I was going to watch Ryan perform at the dance show this weekend. I said that I wasn't going because they charge admission and I'm saving for our new house. By the end of the night, Tom was slurring badly and claiming to buy me a ticket. I drove up north to work on a documentary about the nation's youngest superdelegate (who happens to be from Wisconsin). I stayed in a nice motel in a small town, doing laps in the pool I had to myself and watching "Iron Chef" in my cozy bed. Tom called me while I was there, telling me he'd boght the ticket and would I like to join his family for dinner beforehand? I couldn't believe he was sober enough to recall saying anything Tuesday night, so I was thrilled to know I'd see Ryan in his final performance with the dance studio. I drove the five hour trek back to Milwaukee on Friday night and danced with my friend Tania at a local club hosting Eighties' Night. Saturday morning I dragged myself out of bed and met Ryan at the bank to sign the lease and officially made the house ours to rent. Tom's daughter Erin picked me up and brought me to the mall, where we met up with Tom and his fiancée, Allie. After a little shopping, we went to a Cajun restaurant and I had some delicious Mahi Mahi. Finally we arrived at the performance. Ryan only danced in two numbers, but I made my presence known to him even from the balcony, shouting "GO J.R.!" at the top of my lungs (his stage name at the studio is Jack Ryan). I ran into many of my former co-workers, including Vanina and her baby girl Eva, whom I hadn't seen since she had no teeth. She waved at me and tried to say "Hola." It was adorable. Ryan came up to the balcony to see me, but was strictly professional, even when Ludmilla was shouting to him in her thick Russian accent: "Ryan! Look at her! She is beautiful! She has best skin in world. Do you know this? She has lost weight, she look amazing! Tell her every day! Don't be an idiot!" Later, Tom and Allie took me out for drinks afterwards and we had a blast. I didn't pay one cent the entire evening. Sunday I sat alone in church, sad that Ryan didn't sit next to me after finishing his ushering job. He later admitted that he was talking to our friend Steve in the back room. Steve was the first of our church friends Ryan told about our living together. Steve was supportive of our decision, even if it wasn't something he would have done personally. I was glad that Ryan wasn't shy about telling our friends anymore, that he wasn't fearing judgement or criticism for something that is going to make both of us happy. I made lunch for us and he taught a quick lesson before coming back and crashing on my couch. He talked to me about the depression he'd experienced for so ling in his job, having no motivation to make a living because he had nothing to work for. Now, he says he can't wait to go to work so he can earn some money, and he looks forward to going to the home he'll soon have even more. "I told Steve today, when he asked if we had ever discussed engagement or marriage, that if I had the money I'd go out and get you a ring right now. I would. I'll get there. I'm changing my life: new job, new home, new outlook on things... God is really on my side right now." Post a comment in response: |
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