It was a white hot love that burned too hot to last. It was inevitable that it would end, maybe even that it would not end well. It didn’t start out like that, in fact I was somewhat indifferent really. Once out of curiosity and nothing else to do, the second time just for fun, and the rest because I needed it. I kept it secret at first, and then I dragged HIM in with me.
So it became me and Wayne on Mondays lustfully indulging that which we knew was wrong. Popcorn and champagne in hand we became armchair judges of gowns, tuxes, and boob glitter. We gasped at missed steps, guffawed at awkward B celebs and were beguiled by Bruno’s rapier wit.
God help me, I even made him try it at home. I bought a How to Tango video from Amazon and we practiced in the garage, the neighbors be damned, let them look, we didn’t care. We danced a tango at our wedding, complete with a plastic rose. I am sorry Wayne.
Wayne was the first to lose interest; feigning multiple trips to the bathroom and kitchen. My pleas to bring him back brought only sad looks and slight pity. He moved further down the couch and began to play golf on the laptop during commercials. Then one Monday he declined to watch at all.
Alone was I now this past Monday, watching, hoping! I just wanted to feel the old magic one last time. Be moved to tears by a dedicated dance or a one legged back flip; I just wanted one last burst of excitement that made me want to waltz. But I got nothing.
And so I write this open goodbye to a former love; it was fun, but it wasn’t meant to last. Farwell old friends; goodbye Tom Bergeron, so long Carrie Ann Inaba, cheerio Len. Dancing With the Stars has lost its fire, I have lost my love, and Wayne has lost his lunch.
I am however, keeping the boob glitter.
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