THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 7,
1978
SECOND DATE WITH
NANCY
|
|
 |
It was Thursday
night, September 7. Tonight I expected to meet Nancy for our
second date. I expected to take her back to élan,
but she was wearing blue jeans when she appeared at the Jet
Set. Given the dress code at élan, a
visit was out of the question. It didn't matter.
Nancy was more than happy to dance with me after class at
the Jet Set. I was unsure about the rest of our
evening, but Nancy took care of that. When I said I
was getting ready to leave, Nancy smiled and said she would
follow me home.
Nancy and I
would
never have another official date in public. Instead we
established a Thursday night pattern of meeting at the Jet
Set, then returning to my house.
Nancy would come
to the Jet Set, take my class, dance with me,
then follow me home. Then came the love-making. As
we wrestled passionately,
Nancy would turn into a panther and leave scratches all over my
back. I would awaken in the morning to mildly painful
reminders to our nocturnal passion.
Was she marking her territory? Interesting thought. Fortunately I had the sense
not to leave similar marks.
Nancy never commented, but no doubt she appreciated the gesture.
Nancy enhanced her
mystery by changing her look every Thursday when she appeared at the Jet Set.
One
night Nancy
stood quietly near the stage for several minutes before I
recognized her. I was dumbfounded. How does she do that? One
night Nancy was Latin, the next night she was Asian, the
third she was African-American. The woman was a
chameleon, a mythological shape shifter.
I often wondered
where Nancy developed the skill to change her appearance so
dramatically. Each Thursday I
had the oddest sense that I was going home with a different
woman. We would make love, we would sleep, we would wake
up in the morning and make love again. Then I would sit and watch her put on
her make-up.
Nancy was a master at the art of cosmetics and hair style. I
complimented her ability to change her appearance, but she
never commented.
|
Nancy would just
smile when I asked polite questions, then touch me lightly
on the arm. That was my signal to stop asking
questions. Then she would leave and I would spend the
rest of the week trying to figure her out.
There was a
classic song titled "Year of the Cat" which described
our relationship to perfection.
She doesn't give you time for questions
As she locks up your arm in hers
And you follow till your sense of which direction
Completely disappears
In the Year of the Cat
Everyone knows
how independent cats are. They come and they go as
they please. Every Thursday I always wondered if this
would be the night she would not appear. I was certain
Nancy was bound to leave me. However, to my continuing
astonishment, she gave no sign of dissatisfaction
whatsoever.
Our
relationship was remarkably uncomplicated which is ironic
considering this was the most confusing relationship I
ever had. We never talked during the week. How could we? I did
not have her number!
We never had time to talk at the Jet Set and once we came home, we
had better things to do. And so the mystery remained.
Nancy was the
most exquisite sexual partner of my life. But why me?
I am not sure why I question everything. Why not just
accept things? Unfortunately it is my
nature to inquire about things that make no sense.
Nancy was a woman
who could have any man in Houston... or the world for that matter... but she had chosen me. What
was I giving her that she wanted? Sex was the
obvious answer, but there were plenty of men far
more handsome and accomplished who were willing to provide a
similar service. I doubted
seriously that I was her kind of guy. Nancy deserved to have
someone equally beautiful beside her, an athlete or male model, someone who
was a better
match for her physical perfection. And if looks didn't
matter, then Nancy belonged at the side of a prosperous
businessman who exuded an unmistakable air of Old World
sophistication. I hardly fit any of those categories.
|
I suppose I had a few
things going for me. One was my dance ability.
That had gotten me to First Base with Nancy. I had enough
money to pay for a membership to élan.
That had gotten me to Second Base. I used my dance
skill to turn Nancy into Queen of the Night. That
had gotten me to Third Base. Nancy had rewarded me
with an exquisite night of passion
However I had no
chance of getting any further. In fact, I had no idea
why Nancy stuck around. If I had one strength, it was
my intelligence and education. That
had been the source of
Jenny's attraction to me. Jenny loved to probe my mind
and exchange ideas. We were perfectly matched.
I believe if I had remained with Karen, the same kind of rapport awaited. Francesca
as well. Yes, Murray Bowen was light years beyond my
comprehension, but I was at least smart enough to carry on
an educated (if not brilliant) conversation. As for
Marilyn, she was superior to me in every way.
I understood why
intelligent women were attracted to me. It made sense.
I was a bright guy who was interesting to talk to. But
Nancy? Come on now. Nancy was not interested in
my mind. We never
spoke about anything more serious than the weather.
Nancy would not even let me make coffee or feed her breakfast.
The moment she finished her hair and make-up, it was time.
Nancy would give me a
kiss and promise to see me next Thursday at the Jet Set. Then she
was gone.
|
 |
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER
11, 1978
the silent
acrobat
|
|
Super-Advanced Disco on Monday was
my toughest class. The people were my Core Group, my
most advanced dancers. Teaching this group was
a challenge because several of the men were
practically as good as me. Although things
were nowhere as tense as they were during the
Apprenticeship, I was still
using my 'One Step Ahead' technique. That meant
I still needed to stay at least one, preferably two moves ahead
of my best students. With this in mind, I asked Joanne for a
favor. Would she consider coming early at 6 pm on Monday nights to
help me prepare? I was grateful when Joanne agreed.
By practicing moves I had seen in the clubs before
teaching them to my class, it was so much easier to stay ahead of my Super-Advanced
class.
Where did my new moves come from? Either I would see something in a club or
I would come up with a new idea as I danced
for the fun of it. Mostly I taught Acrobatics.
I had a buddy named Shark I would run into at the
Pistachio Club. A former high school and college
cheerleader, he used his training to invent all kinds of
ways to show the girl off. To my undying relief,
Shark was generous about showing me his latest move.
However, to my frustration, I often had no one to
practice with. That changed when Joanne came
along.
|
| |
I was
gratified to see my first impression of Joanne's dancing ability was
accurate.
In particular, Acrobatics came effortlessly to
Joanne. She was the perfect
practice partner.
To begin with, Joanne was was quite an
athlete. I had never
seen a woman pick up acrobatic moves so fast. The
girl was not only fearless, she didn't appear to have a backbone.
Joanne could contort her body into any extreme position and look graceful
in the process. Considering this young lady had considerable talent,
it was a shame she grew up poor. Joanne would have been a
great ballerina. Oh well, Ballet's loss was Rick's gain.
Joanne
and I met every Monday
at 6 pm to practice. She would help me with my Beginner
class at 7 and stay for 8-9 pm. With Joanne as
demonstrator,
I would share my new
pattern with the Super-Advanced class. It wasn't easy for
Joanne to drive all the way from west Houston in the middle of evening traffic, but
she never missed and she was never late. Her reliability was wonderful
because if she had missed, there were several times when I would have been unprepared
to face the snarling lions. With Joanne at my side, I kept
the lions at bay.
Quite frankly, Joanne was a Godsend. During the week, I
would make a point to go to the Pistachio Club for Happy Hour or after
class to scout for new moves. I would see two or three
things, write some notes to help jog my memory, then try
out the
moves on Joanne each Monday. She had no fear about risking
her body to try these tricky acrobatics even though I often did not know what I was doing. One mistake
and I might hurt her, but Joanne was fearless. She
would say, "Don't worry, Rick, just go slow and try the move."
Usually we could figure out what I had
seen without a problem, but occasionally I could not get the hang of this new move.
Several times I went into class unprepared. I would make a
mistake, but
Joanne always seemed to cover for me. Don't tell anyone my
secret, but I had learned whenever a move did not work, the
students tended to blame themselves. Having Joanne made it
even easier to hide my ignorance. Joanne was a pro at
helping me fake things. Maybe I had not figured out the
correct lead or how to explain it properly. No
problem. Joanne had a way to
make it look like I knew what I was doing. Since the move
worked just fine when Joanne did it, the students invariably
assumed it was their fault.
What a shame I didn't have Joanne to perform
with me back in the
days of the Ritz Disaster.
|
 |
Joanne was phenomenal at helping me demonstrate the new
patterns in class, but she was a cripple when it
came to interacting with the students. As opposed to
Victoria to whom conversation came effortlessly, Joanne was
virtually speechless. Joanne was brave and daring when
it came to Acrobatics, but she was terrified around
the students in the class. It was disturbing to
realize
Joanne had a social phobia as acute as my own Phobia had been.
Weren't we a pair?
Recalling my own loneliness, I wanted to much to help Joanne overcome her barrier.
My therapist had helped me, so now it was my turn to help Joanne.
Easier said than done. Joanne was so painfully shy, she rarely said a word in class.
When I asked her a question, she would shrug and say little
more than "I don't know."
The
most peculiar thing about Joanne was her reluctance to dance
with the men in class. That made no sense to me.
I asked her why not. Joanne replied, "They all ask me what they
are doing wrong. What am I supposed to say?
I don't know what they are doing wrong. Plus I
don't like being touched by men I don't know."
"What about me? I touch you all the time."
"You're different. I like
you."
Joanne was serious about not wanted to be touched. She
tried it for a few weeks and was clearly uncomfortable.
In the fourth week, Joanne spoke up during our 6 pm practice
session. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I really
would rather not dance with the men tonight unless you insist."
"Why not?"
"Two things. One, the men are not as good as you.
Several times they have hurt me and one time a man almost
dropped me. I
don't trust them. That's not the only problem. Some of the men are free
with their hands. I won't confront them because I
don't like scenes, but it would make things easier if you
would
just let me demonstrate and skip dancing with the students."
With a heavy heart, I agreed to Joanne's terms. I
asked her who the men were who touched her inappropriately, but she refused to reveal their
identity. The bottom line is that Joanne was not meant to
be a dance teacher.
Joanne would never dream of telling a man what he was doing
wrong. Joanne just wanted to demonstrate and dance
with me, not teach. If I insisted, Joanne would dance with a
guy, but she was clearly unhappy about it. After a
while, I stopped
asking. I would simply ask her to keep an eye on
things
while I worked with someone who was struggling. If
there was a problem, Joanne refused to intervene. She
would just come and get me. Joanne
might offer a word or two if someone asked her a
question, but usually she would respond with "I
don't know, better ask Rick."
Good grief. This was a woman whose entire teaching
vocabulary consisted of three words... "I don't know."
It
was weird, Joanne would only speak to me. The
students took the hint and did not bother her unless
necessary. I had a theory why Joanne was so reticent
to interact. I believe she was afraid the men would
think she wasn't very smart. She was
too tongue-twisted
around these college-educated people to carry on a
conversation. Joanne was not stupid, but rather a simple country girl who was poorly educated.
Poor Joanne. She was well aware of her educational
limitations and was fearful of being considered ignorant. Joanne was terrified of saying the wrong thing
and getting laughed at. Her problem reminded me of
myself. At one point, I had been terrified of being laughed
at when I danced poorly or coldly rejected if I asked a girl to dance.
I swear to God,
there were so many times when I thought Joanne was my female mirror image.
After speaking with Joanne about it, she confirmed my theory. She
pointed out the majority of my dance students were extremely smart
college-educated professionals. Once Joanne
realized the students
in our Monday group were talking
circles around her, she clammed up as a way to conceal her educational
shortcomings.
Joanne was not very knowledgeable. What was she
supposed to talk about... Sports? Politics? The
economy? The latest fashions? I don't think
Joanne was much of a reader. I doubt she read
magazines or the newspaper. The woman lacked any sort
of intellectual curiosity. Consequently Joanne found it
easier to remain silent
than embarrass
herself.
This revelation was very upsetting. For the life of
me, I could not understand why she had no trouble expressing
herself to me, but shied away from everyone else. I
was frustrated. Helping Joanne come out of her shell
was going to be a lot harder
than I expected. I had hoped that
my group of dance friends would welcome Joanne into
their social circle and invite her to go dancing with them,
but my plan failed miserably.
Joanne's reticence
made it tough to fit in with
the tight-knit Monday clique.
It did not take long for Joanne's
silence to backfire.
Sorry to say, the students
misunderstood her standoffish behavior. Seeing what a
brilliant dancer she was, they decided Joanne did not talk
to them or dance with them because they were not worthy of her attention. They
wrote Joanne off as a snob. This mistaken conclusion was the
start of Joanne's 'Ice Queen' reputation, an
undeserved rap if there ever was one. I could have
said something to the group, but decided it was too risky.
Joanne was very touchy. One snide remark and I might
never see her again. So instead I preserved Joanne's
shame as a secret between us.
I hurt for
Joanne. I remembered pushing people away for several
years with the same 'leave me alone' demeanor. If it
hadn't been for my therapist friend Gaye, I don't know how I
would have broken out of my shell. Now Joanne was in
the same fix.
Joanne's quiet
ways caused her infinite trouble. People mistook her silence
for conceit. Isn't that a pity? Here was a lonely young woman
who was begging for attention, but lacked the skills necessary to get it. To be honest, in my darkest moments, I admitted
this was the wrong crowd for Joanne. But there was not
much I could do about that and still help her.
Victoria and
Joanne, my
dance assistants, were different as Night and Day. One would not shut up
and the other
never said a word.
|
TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12,
1978
VICTORIA ROLLS
UP HER SLEEVES
|
|
 |
Speaking of Victoria, last Tuesday she rescued my 7-8 pm Class
Factory lesson from oblivion with a 10 minute preview
of her magic powers. Victoria's
appearance had given me a hint
of what she could do, so I was not surprised when her second
week became a Tour de Force.
For
starters, Victoria
brought cookies and name tags to the 7 pm class. Both items were big hits
that helped
cement her status as class leader.
I knew what
Victoria was doing. One year ago I had made myself invaluable
to Rosalyn at the JCC in order to get her attention. My
willingness to act as her assistant had made a good
impression. When Rosalyn received an offer to go to
Washington, D.C., for the summer, she knew exactly who to
ask to substitute. That was my big break, my
first official dance class as a teacher.
Clearly Victoria was using the same tactic. In fact, I
worried she might be better at this than me.
It
took little time to realize when it came to teaching,
Victoria was a natural. Victoria immediately took the
men under her wing and offered suggestions on how to lead
better. This was new. As a man, I could show the
men what to do, but Victoria could actually dance with them
and feel what was wrong. This allowed her to quickly hone in on specific mistakes. The men adored Victoria
and the women trusted her. The ladies recognized Victoria meant
no threat and liked how she made the men pay
better attention. Victoria's strong point was her ability to fuss at guys without hurting their
feelings. We all know as a rule men do not take
criticism from women very well, but Victoria had the knack
of letting these guys know she was on their side. She
was a like a Second Grade teacher who charms the boys into
loving her. Considering she had once been an
elementary school teacher, I was amused to see the same skills
extended to adult
men.
I shook my head in wonder.
This was a different woman.
Unlike the JCC
class where she had been moody, silent and
frowning, Victoria's
enthusiasm brought smiles to everyone. Better still, Victoria was having fun. She laughed all
the way through the 7 pm class.
Victoria turned on the charm for my 8 pm
Intermediate class
as well. Despite the fact that she had
started this class a month late, it did not take long to see that Victoria was the best female dancer in the class.
But the best part came when she started helping the men.
Victoria was a little hesitant at first, but one guy was really
having trouble with a move.
Without being asked,
Victoria said, "Jeff, you are using the wrong foot.
When you raise your left arm, you should be on your left
foot, not your right. Try thinking 'left side only'
and see if it
works."
|
Everyone heard what she said and stopped to
watch. When Jeff used his left foot and left arm at the
same time, Poof, the move suddenly clicked.
Everyone clapped. Considering how frustrated Jeff
had been, this was like
seeing a Faith Healer make a cripple walk again.
I
was quite taken aback. Victoria was one of a kind. Here
was a woman who was brand new, had skipped the
Beginner class, and had no idea what I was teaching.
That didn't bother her. She had a knack for feeling
when something was wrong and her
suggestions seemed spot on.
From that point on,
Victoria did not have to ask permission to help. The men asked her.
Victoria spent the entire class working with
guys who struggled. The enthusiasm was infectious.
Everyone left with a big smile.
Afterwards, Victoria stuck around.
"I am really glad
I followed you over here to Stevens of
Hollywood. Helping you with the two classes makes
me feel like I am finally doing
something useful again. Rick, would you
consider
making me your assistant?"
As
if I had a choice. If the students had been asked
to choose just one of us, I had a bad feeling Victoria would
win the vote.
"Sure, Victoria, I would like
that. You are a born teacher. It's wonderful to watch you in action."
Beaming from head
to toe, Victoria accepted on the
spot. The Age of Victoria had begun.
|
|
