On Our First Dance

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The joint was jumping that evening. I had settled down to have a few beers, listen to some music and maybe lose a few games of pool. I had just signaled the bartender to bring another beer when she walked in. A nice looking woman, mid to late thirties, long dark hair and the deepest darkest eyes I had ever seen. She was the epitome of a lady. Her stride was smooth and confident. Her casual clothes belied her sense of sophistication. I could tell right away she was no bar fly.2

To my great surprise she strolled over to my table and sat directly across from me. Amazingly I made the perfunctory niceties while trying hard not to stare or drool. After her first drink I offered to buy her another one. She accepted and we settled into a more comfortable conversation. She told me she had just ended a long term relationship and she needed to get out and unwind a little. I made mention of my marital status which instantly raised her eyebrows and she posed this question. “Why are you here and not home with your wife”? Without going into any boring details I told her that I was here to have a few drinks and play some pool. That seemed to allay some of her fears about my character and motivation.3

I bought another round and the conversation boiled down to familiar trivialities; where do you live, what do you do , what kind of music do you like etc. etc.  I told her I was raised on rock-n-roll but had come to appreciate country music if it wasn’t the overly ‘tear in your beer’ type. It just so happened at that moment a Conway Twitty song began to play. She reached across the table and touched my hand. She asked, “Do you dance?” I hesitated, knowing I look like a frog in the blender on the dance floor.  She grabbed my hand and insisted, “Come on let’s dance”.  “Well if you put it that way”, was my stammering reply. 4

A slow mellow tune and a soft pair of hands eased my mind as she began to lead. Haltingly I tried to follow. After a few missteps and toe touchings I finally picked up the beat. We danced several minutes but for the life of me I can’t remember any of the lyrics. I was enthralled by her smile and how good it felt being with her at that moment. The music ended and she laughed and gave me the warmest hug I had had in a very long time. 5

We returned to the table and sat down and I ordered one last drink. She was even nice enough to mention that I didn’t break any of her bones. The best I could do was mumble, “Thanks for the dance”. The evening wore on and the talk became more serious but not in any sort of sexual way although that thought did cross my mind occasionally like when I breathed. Mostly she talked about her family and about her hopes and dreams for her two daughters.  I began to feel as if I had known her for a very long time. She made me feel good. I was happy to know her as a friend.* 6

It came time for her to leave. She said goodbye, gave me hug and a kiss on the cheek and turned to leave. She had made a few steps when she turned around, came back to the table and whispered, “I’ll be back here next Friday”. Completely lost in the moment I said, “Goodnight Coconut”.7