Friday, Nov. 01, 2019 @ 1:12 pm
The Best Thing
We dance together in costume across the wood floor of the old church. He spins me, and my skirt and crinoline twirl around my legs. Between dances, I sit on the folded chairs and watch. Nobody asks me to dance, and I become more and more sad, my heart aching, my social fears triggered.
It's not always easy. I do these things, put on a brave face, and usually it turns out OK. And then there are times when it does not.
I am quiet on the car ride home. I become unsure of everything. I don't know what he feels, and I worry that I'm recreating the past, getting involved with someone who is afraid to be vulnerable emotionally.
In bed at home, I tuck into a ball and cry. Nobody asked me to dance. I don't know what I'm doing. Maybe this is all wrong. I'm so tired of being brave and outgoing and I'm not sure that I can keep this all up without knowing how he feels.
I send him a message in the morning, telling him how I'm not actually brave and that the social dancing terrifies me and how grateful I am for him asking me to dance with him when nobody else does.
He responds with this:
You are the best thing to happen to me in a long time.
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