Publications
Partners
Also read part One, Two and Three.
For a year and a half after my husband and I decided to make our marriage work I disappeared.
I allowed myself to get swallowed up by books and television. I threw myself into a correspondence course in literature which turned out to be hard work for very little return. I didn’t go out much. The only people I ever really saw were church people or the people my husband worked with.
It was a little tough in the beginning because we still fought a lot. But then it started to get to a place where we didn’t fight at all.
I remember once feeling absolute panic at the idea that he might not have forgiven me and working myself up into a tearful frenzy about it on a few occasions. The person I am today does not recognize the person I was back then.
Things changed one day when my brother dragged me to a ballroom dancing class. That sounds dumb, perhaps, but it was something I had always wanted to do. I balked at first, but he was pushy.
I walked into that class and wanted to leave immediately. Why? Because I was the only girl wearing a dress. I mention this only to show just how skittish and self-conscious I was back then.
But the dancing changed everything. I was good at it, for one, which was kind of like a miracle. Suddenly I found confidence. I got music back in my life – crazy cheesy pop music that no respectable music lover would be caught dead listening to, but it was there! And I could cha-cha and mambo and waltz and foxtrot and do all these amazing things.
I fell in love with that dance floor. It is still to this day one of the only places that allows me to feel truly beautiful.
My husband couldn’t have been less interested. On the few occasions (twice) that I convinced him to join me he sulked through the entire experience. My dance teacher, and friend, told me that she didn’t like my husband. I could only laugh. It was rude, perhaps, but it was true.
Dancing led to other things. I got stuck into writing my novel and I finished it within months. I had been heavily blocked for years.
And then one day in April 2007, the future father of my child walked into my life. Within seconds the thought “this is the kind of guy I would be interested in if I was single” popped into my head.
He was a new teacher at the studio and he was so shy and kind of goofy. My new confidence spilled all over him as I insisted on helping him get his “dance feet” back. For ages I was convinced that the man could not dance. Later I found out that I was the only one who his feet wouldn’t work for.
I introduced him to the other students, playfully showed him that we were an unscary bunch. Then I sat down at the bar to get a drink and the bartender asked my how my husband was. I watched a light go out in the new teacher’s eyes. I’ve never been so flattered in my life. It was like I could taste his disappointment in my mouth.
Shortly after that, I decided that I would like to start teaching ballroom classes and I soon became one of the team. My boss was so good to me. She was encouraging and kind and like a big sister who I loved and trusted completely. All the while I knew it was kind of a bad idea.
Flirtation between myself and the new teacher had become really bad. Somehow we had discovered that the only dance we could manage together was the salsa and it was insane how in-sync we became no the floor. Something clicked, and soon we found ourselves thrust together in a dance partnership.
At that point my husband had once again withdrawn from me completely. We no longer fought. Sex had come to a complete stop and he refused to talk about it.
I had to admit to myself that getting crushes on different men all the time was possibly not “normal”. Up until then I had had a small “thing” for a guy at the gym. A certain bartender. A random guy I met through another friend. None of these crushes were anything I particularly wanted to act on. I just thought these guys were cute and fun to talk to. And it was fun to imagine them in compromising positions. Totally normal, I’m sure.
At work I was happy. But being at home was becoming a weight I could no longer bear.
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For a year and a half after my husband and I decided to make our marriage work I disappeared.
I allowed myself to get swallowed up by books and television. I threw myself into a correspondence course in literature which turned out to be hard work for very little return. I didn’t go out much. The only people I ever really saw were church people or the people my husband worked with.
It was a little tough in the beginning because we still fought a lot. But then it started to get to a place where we didn’t fight at all.
I remember once feeling absolute panic at the idea that he might not have forgiven me and working myself up into a tearful frenzy about it on a few occasions. The person I am today does not recognize the person I was back then.
Things changed one day when my brother dragged me to a ballroom dancing class. That sounds dumb, perhaps, but it was something I had always wanted to do. I balked at first, but he was pushy.
I walked into that class and wanted to leave immediately. Why? Because I was the only girl wearing a dress. I mention this only to show just how skittish and self-conscious I was back then.
But the dancing changed everything. I was good at it, for one, which was kind of like a miracle. Suddenly I found confidence. I got music back in my life – crazy cheesy pop music that no respectable music lover would be caught dead listening to, but it was there! And I could cha-cha and mambo and waltz and foxtrot and do all these amazing things.
I fell in love with that dance floor. It is still to this day one of the only places that allows me to feel truly beautiful.
My husband couldn’t have been less interested. On the few occasions (twice) that I convinced him to join me he sulked through the entire experience. My dance teacher, and friend, told me that she didn’t like my husband. I could only laugh. It was rude, perhaps, but it was true.
Dancing led to other things. I got stuck into writing my novel and I finished it within months. I had been heavily blocked for years.
And then one day in April 2007, the future father of my child walked into my life. Within seconds the thought “this is the kind of guy I would be interested in if I was single” popped into my head.
He was a new teacher at the studio and he was so shy and kind of goofy. My new confidence spilled all over him as I insisted on helping him get his “dance feet” back. For ages I was convinced that the man could not dance. Later I found out that I was the only one who his feet wouldn’t work for.
I introduced him to the other students, playfully showed him that we were an unscary bunch. Then I sat down at the bar to get a drink and the bartender asked my how my husband was. I watched a light go out in the new teacher’s eyes. I’ve never been so flattered in my life. It was like I could taste his disappointment in my mouth.
Shortly after that, I decided that I would like to start teaching ballroom classes and I soon became one of the team. My boss was so good to me. She was encouraging and kind and like a big sister who I loved and trusted completely. All the while I knew it was kind of a bad idea.
Flirtation between myself and the new teacher had become really bad. Somehow we had discovered that the only dance we could manage together was the salsa and it was insane how in-sync we became no the floor. Something clicked, and soon we found ourselves thrust together in a dance partnership.
At that point my husband had once again withdrawn from me completely. We no longer fought. Sex had come to a complete stop and he refused to talk about it.
I had to admit to myself that getting crushes on different men all the time was possibly not “normal”. Up until then I had had a small “thing” for a guy at the gym. A certain bartender. A random guy I met through another friend. None of these crushes were anything I particularly wanted to act on. I just thought these guys were cute and fun to talk to. And it was fun to imagine them in compromising positions. Totally normal, I’m sure.
At work I was happy. But being at home was becoming a weight I could no longer bear.
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