and tired of being the fifth wheel…that’s when I met him…Curtis…twenty-eight years ago on June 6, 1992.
Below is an excerpt from my book Wounded Song, released on amazon books July 2017!
[excerpt from chapter 26 – titled The Fragile Dance]
Who says Prince Charming has to come on a white horse and kiss me awake to a better life? Sure, a princess dress looks pretty but I’m not a fan of bras, never mind corsets. Jeans with patches, bare feet and daisies in my hair are more my speed.
So rather than lying in a sunny field of wild flowers day dreaming and waiting to be rescued by a kiss, I sat alone at a table for six in a dimly-lit room which failed to appear romantic. It was more like a dungeon of souls hoping to find Mr. or Mrs. Right, but ready to go home with Mr. or Mrs. Tonight. Divorced three years and meeting Mr. Wrong every time I turned around, I was fed up with men and empty promises. The only reason I had been at this joint was to support my sister C.J. and brother-in-law Bill’s fifth wedding anniversary.
They wanted to cheer with an evening of two-steppin’ and shooting pool. Finding local bands that played country music in Connecticut during the 90s wasn’t as difficult as finding a venue with a dance floor larger than two tables put together, but we did.
He didn’t ride in on a horse, but rather buzzed like a bee to honey as he made his way across the dance hall and asked, “Is this seat taken? Can I join you?” The day I met my future, I was wearing a blue calico skirt with a white eyelet top and Tony Lama cowgirl boots from El Paso, Texas. He was wearing tight jeans, cowboy boots and over his shirt was a purple denim jacket with the sleeves cut off. His white Stetson cowboy hat, from Salt Lake City, Utah, slightly revealed his long sandy blonde curls pulled back in a ponytail while his most adorable frame revealed a healthy fit male who bench pressed at the gym. Nothing about him was shy but his demeanor was polite and courteous while his bright blue eyes made life seem possible.
He didn’t ride in on a horse, but rather buzzed like a bee to honey as he made his way across the dance hall and asked, “Is this seat taken? Can I join you?” The day I met my future, I was wearing a blue calico skirt with a white eyelet top and Tony Lama cowgirl boots from El Paso, Texas. He was wearing tight jeans, cowboy boots and over his shirt was a purple denim jacket with the sleeves cut off. His white Stetson cowboy hat, from Salt Lake City, Utah, slightly revealed his long sandy blonde curls pulled back in a ponytail while his most adorable frame revealed a healthy fit male who bench pressed at the gym. Nothing about him was shy but his demeanor was polite and courteous while his bright blue eyes made life seem possible.
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| 1992 Curtis was in a band The Trailers |
As the fifth wheel of the group, I’d been sitting alone at least twenty minutes to save our table while the other two couples shot pool. Somewhat intrigued that a man came to life and wanted to talk to me, I assessed the situation and deemed he looked harmless enough so I granted him permission to join me. This man, my future husband, a seasoned musician, was there scoping out the club to book a gig, not a wife. I, his future wife, was there to support her family, not interested in making stupid small talk.
Reserved and not impressed at this time of life with the male species, here we were anyway as we managed small talk across the table from one another. The loud music forced me to stand and lean over the table to hear him. Each time I leaned, my hand held the scoop neckline of my shirt so he wouldn’t get the impression I was inviting him in.
It occurred to me this guy wasn’t throwing me one line clichés but rather stringing complete thoughts and sentences together. I became hopeful as he redeemed for me that a man and woman could have an intelligent conversation. By the time I relaxed and let my guard down I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and looked up to find my brother-in-law Bill behind me. He wasted no time, looked right at this man Curtis and said, “Why are you talking to my wife?”
Can I tell you, if looks could kill, Bill would be dead and buried ten feet under snapdragons! I mean, seriously, here was the first real guy who approached me all night. And he even knew how to talk talk. They stared across the table at each other while Bill stood his ground behind me. Curtis never flinched during the silent interrogation. Then all of a sudden both revealed a glimmer in their eyes and they started laughing like two long lost buddies. Here were two men who had a code only they understood. I had no idea what transpired, but whatever the secret man-code was it didn’t scare Curtis away. Instead, they looked at each other, smiled, shook hands and the rest, as they say, is history. I don’t claim to speak man-code but today I know this, Bill cared enough to challenge this stranger and protect me.
Finally, Curtis asked me to dance. Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds we weren’t. Well, how could we be when as fast as he’d pull me close to his chest, I’d push him away at arm’s length. Let’s just say we weren’t going to win any awards. Curtis will share: “Every time she pushed me away I knew she was the girl for me!”
When the evening ended, he asked for my phone number. How original. Well, I decided he appeared safe enough so I gave it to him. How typical. But truth be known when he told me he lived an hour from me I was certain no matter how nice he seemed, I’d never hear from this man again.
Reserved and not impressed at this time of life with the male species, here we were anyway as we managed small talk across the table from one another. The loud music forced me to stand and lean over the table to hear him. Each time I leaned, my hand held the scoop neckline of my shirt so he wouldn’t get the impression I was inviting him in.
It occurred to me this guy wasn’t throwing me one line clichés but rather stringing complete thoughts and sentences together. I became hopeful as he redeemed for me that a man and woman could have an intelligent conversation. By the time I relaxed and let my guard down I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and looked up to find my brother-in-law Bill behind me. He wasted no time, looked right at this man Curtis and said, “Why are you talking to my wife?”
Can I tell you, if looks could kill, Bill would be dead and buried ten feet under snapdragons! I mean, seriously, here was the first real guy who approached me all night. And he even knew how to talk talk. They stared across the table at each other while Bill stood his ground behind me. Curtis never flinched during the silent interrogation. Then all of a sudden both revealed a glimmer in their eyes and they started laughing like two long lost buddies. Here were two men who had a code only they understood. I had no idea what transpired, but whatever the secret man-code was it didn’t scare Curtis away. Instead, they looked at each other, smiled, shook hands and the rest, as they say, is history. I don’t claim to speak man-code but today I know this, Bill cared enough to challenge this stranger and protect me.
Finally, Curtis asked me to dance. Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds we weren’t. Well, how could we be when as fast as he’d pull me close to his chest, I’d push him away at arm’s length. Let’s just say we weren’t going to win any awards. Curtis will share: “Every time she pushed me away I knew she was the girl for me!”
When the evening ended, he asked for my phone number. How original. Well, I decided he appeared safe enough so I gave it to him. How typical. But truth be known when he told me he lived an hour from me I was certain no matter how nice he seemed, I’d never hear from this man again.
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| 1992 We went hiking and canoeing |
Surprise, surprise. The next day he called and the following weekend he drove his beat-up old green van down to Newtown. We met at the commuter parking lot off exit eleven. [end of excerpt]
At this time of my life I had been divorced three years and not thrilled with dating. Men were either unreliable, had stood me up or couldn’t keep their promise. Getting ready to go out and celebrate my sister’s anniversary with two other couples, my date stood me up, making me the fifth wheel.
Mad then. Thankful and grateful now. Happy-anniversary-day-we-met-lovey!
Do you have a story where you can look back and
thank God for unanswered prayers?
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| 1992 |
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| 1992 |
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| 1992 Curtis was in a band The Trailers |
link: Wounded Song (a memoir)
link: Woundedsong.com website
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*Original post written June 6, 2018
Love the story!
This story gets better every time I hear it or read it. God works in amazing ways, His wonders to perform.
God knows what He’s doing 🙂
Love your life story! At one time, you both encouraged me in waiting for my love story to start. Xo
Love love love…
Remember reading it years ago but never gets old … You both rock the room! Thank you!