Attention: Overdramatic Idiot Seeks Ballroom Partner

This is my 500th post.

Friday evening was a dreary night - the sky was weepy and the roads were slick - but I made it to Elite for my lesson with Robertas. I have to admit I was slightly nervous about being analyzed by an international champion, but he's so hilarious that I couldn't maintain my nerves. We went through all of the Int'l Latin dances and eventually settled on rumba technique for the lesson. He has an interesting perspective, explains points of technique and styling in ways I've never heard before, and I enjoyed being his student. He asked me if I'd be willing to try for the April showcase, but that'd mean more than one lesson a week, and I don't think I can afford it. Summer is more likely; what I'd like to do instead of racing to get ready for a looming showcase is go through all of the syllabus dances one by one (including standard) and get ready to compete.

After my lesson, I was invited out to The Federal with the cast of The Mikado. Unfortunately, the street that I'd written on my directions no longer existed and I ended up driving aimlessly around a sodden downtown Durham until I luckily happened upon the street I was looking for. Most of the people there I'd already met before at other parties, but I finally met the leading lady starring opposite Caspian, and she immediately told me she owed me a couple drinks. Hmmmm.

Gotta admit. Not the most pleasant concept, knowing your husband is kissing other women, even if it's for a show. I have a jealous streak, and he has a flirtatious streak. He was teasing me last night, mischievous eyes sparkling, flamboyantly bragging about having to kiss a bazillion times for twelve measures each, causing me to grumpily poke him. As irrational and silly as as I know it is, aware that he's provoking me for fun and to make light of a trifling situation, I sigh and hug him and he holds me and I just sit there, in love, melancholy. My own MOTHER tells me to get over it, which indicates that I'm being an overdramatic idiot. Likely.

If I could go anywhere for our honeymoon, two places on my list would be Lighthouse Reef, Belize and Dean's Blue Hole, Bahamas. There's something about the lifeless desert of a tropical beach under desolate equatorial azure sky that appeals to me right now. I don't want to see anyone but Caspian. No frivolities, no parties, no drinks, no fancy dinners. Just a week of unplanned days, simple mornings with no make-up, no artifice, no consideration at all of my physical appearance for the sake of other people. Afternoons of simple pleasures, our conversation, the sound of waves lapping. I want to see the moon over the sea, ponder my insignificance, and abandon false notions of my worth and superiority that prevent me from being happy and doing the things that I love.