My life with Gene begins

A few days ago, I wrote about the night I didn’t meet my husband. Since today is the 19^th anniversary of the night we met, it seems like a good day to write about it.

Quick summary: I had gone two-stepping for the first time on a Tuesday at the invitation of one of my girlfriends. She was there with her sister-in-law. This man I came to refer to as “a tall, rude man” kept coming by the table and inviting each of them to dance but totally ignoring me. Not a “hello,” nod or even a grunt. This happened again two nights later on a Thursday.

My girlfriend and her SIL couldn’t go on Saturday but I was enjoying being out – after finishing coursework for my graduate degree while working full-time – so I went without them. Imagine my surprise when as I waited for the couples dance lesson (which was held before the dance hall officially opened for the night), the “tall, rude man” sat down next to me at the bar.

“Hi,” he said, “I’m Gene.”

“I know who you are,” I said barely glancing at him.

We started chatting and pretty much never stopped. I spent the next four hours with Gene by my side. We stopped talking only for a few turns on the dance floor.

There were three women for every guy at this place and many of them approached Gene throughout the night, asking for a dance. He turned every one of them down over and over again. I got more than one disgusted stare from his suitors who were not happy as he politely declined their dance invitations.

Finally, I said, “I appreciate you keeping me company but I really don’t need a babysitter.”

“I’m happy where I am,” he said.

We talked about politics, religion, sports, careers. You name it, it came up.

About 11:30, I decided I was ready to head home. I thanked Gene for the conversation and dances and told him I was heading out. We said our goodbyes and I headed for the back of the dance hall to stop in the ladies room before going home.

I wasn’t gone 3 minutes when I passed Gene on my way out. My chair had been overtaken. Gene was surrounded by three different women.

I smiled and gave him a little wave.

I walked out of the dance hall and wasn’t 25 yards away when I heard the door slam behind me. I spun around. I’d been single long enough to be extra aware of my surroundings in parking lots, especially at night. But what I saw was nothing to fear. It was Gene.

He caught up with me and said, “I didn’t think you should walk to your car alone.” 

Aaawwww, chilvalry was not dead.

Once at my car, Gene took my right hand into both of his, looked down on me (he was a foot taller than me), and said, “Thanks. I had a great time tonight.”

“Me, too.”

And with that, I got into my car and Gene headed back inside.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, I remember having just one thought: What an interesting guy. He would make a great escort for all of the city functions I have to attend.

The idea of “dating” Gene never crossed my mind. I didn’t feel that way about him, but I knew he’d make a great companion.

I had no idea how right I was. But a few nights later I would begin to realize it and so much more.