FLASHBACK:  APRIL 29, 1999

MARLA

"If you take this journey, you will meet the man with whom you will spend the rest of your life.  Not only that, you already know him."  -- Gypsy Prophecy

I first met Marla on April 29, 1999.  Unfortunately, we got off on the wrong foot.  Never a good thing for a dance instructor.  Marla signed up for my Thursday Beginner Whip class.  Whip is a flashy partner dance similar to West Coast Swing that emphasizes a woman's hip motion.  Marla was what you might call a natural.  The first time I saw her dance, Marla hit an extreme hip position known as the Back Arch, something few women can do well.  This was good, but in a way it was too good.  Given her excellent figure, every eye in the room would automatically be drawn to Marla if she continued to move like that.  However, I felt her hip motion was too exaggerated for a beginner. 

"Marla, your hip motion is excellent, but I suggest you tone it down.  You are a beginner and you will draw too much attention.  Don't stick your hips out so far until you know more about the dance.  You will know when the time comes to flip the switch back on."

Marla bristled.  I don't think she was in a very good mood to begin with, so she took my comment as criticism.  That was not my intention, believe me.  However, I could not seem to defuse the tension.  Nothing I said seemed to satisfy her, so I let it rest and moved onto the next student.  That was the last I saw of Marla that night.  Nor did she return the following week.  An entire year would pass before I saw her again. 

November 2000

THUNDERBOLT

Now it was Marla's turn to be surprised.  How did I know her name?  Marla didn't stop, but she slowed down long enough to offer a passing smile.  Marla was a brown-eyed beauty with wavy tossed salad hair.  Standing 5' 3", I took note of her impressive hourglass figure.  Estimating her age at 45, Marla's olive skin made me think she was Spanish or Italian.  Turned out Marla was Russian by heritage.  So much for my acute guessing ability.  I felt like I already knew Marla, so I asked her a question when I saw her the following week. 

"Marla, weren't you in one of my classes about a year ago?" 

"Yes, I was in your Whip class.  You said I moved my hips too much."

"That was you?  You seem different."

"Very observant.  Yes, I am different." 

Marla didn't say so, but she was in a better mood.  She was also 30 pounds lighter.  That explained why I had not recognized her the previous week.  It also explained why I could not take my eyes off her now.  As the French would say, Viva la difference.  

"I apologize if I upset you last year, but I certainly did not mean to hurt your feelings.  Why didn't you come back to class?"

"I took your criticism the wrong way.  But I'm back and ready to start again."

There were two Sundays left in November.  Marla was not one of my students, but that did not stop me from keeping a look-out.  When I saw her again, my pulse immediately began to race.  I reminded myself to be careful because she was so good-looking.  Based on a bitter experience twenty years ago, I had a firm rule against affairs.  An affair with a married woman had been the worst mistake of my life.  Once I learned my lesson, I vowed never to let it happen again.  I am pleased to say I kept my vow.  Nevertheless, it disturbed me greatly to feel how attracted I was to this woman.  The intensity is what struck me as strange.  Over the course of my dance career, 22 years at this point, I had met many attractive women.  Of course I had been interested, but not quite to this extent.  Marla was my very first Thunderbolt.  So did I say anything to Marla?  No, of course not.  Despite my failing marriage to Judy, I knew better than to act upon my interest.  Look, but don't touch. 

It disturbed me that I continued to think about Marla during the week.  What was the meaning of this instant attraction?  Fortunately, the problem was solved when I did not see Marla in December.  I was disappointed, but it was just as well.  Temptation is so much easier to handle when it is out of sight.  I assumed I would never see Marla again.  Turns out I was wrong.

MARCH 2001

WE MEET AGAIN

January and February were over.  It was now March.  Judy was gone.  So was Sam much of the time.  She was gone three, sometimes four nights a week.  So far I had no real desire to begin seeing anyone.  However, the moment Marla reappeared in March after a three month absence, I felt an instant thrill.  Noting how my heart went pitter-patter the moment I saw her, Marla was still my Thunderbolt. 

This time Marla was in my class.  Excellent.  She had signed up for my Sunday afternoon Advanced Swing class.  I hoped Marla had taken my dance class because she was just as interested in me as I was in her.  Even better, this time I would no longer have to feel guilty about my unusual interest in her.  When I got a chance, I asked my dream girl where she had been. 

Marla replied, "I am a sales representative for the kind of items you typically buy at a gift shop.  Every January I have to face a ten-day ordeal known as 'Market'.  I drive up to Dallas and spend time familiarizing myself with the products being offered in the new year.  Now that the dust has settled at my job, it's time to resume my dance classes.  I'm a little rusty, so don't go too hard on me."

Nothing more was said, so that was the full extent of our 'Welcome back, Marla' conversation.  Hmm.  Kind of brief.  Having detected not even a glimmer of interest in Marla's expression, I chided myself for being so vain.  I felt very foolish for thinking my interest in her would automatically be reciprocated. 

Although I was disappointed at her obvious lack of interest, fortunately things improved during dance class that day.  I tend to be sarcastic at times, often saying the exact opposite of what I really mean.  Other times I will exaggerate as I fuss over someone's mistake.  "Oh my God, you may actually be the worst dancer I have ever met!  What am I going to do about you?" 

Don't worry, I wasn't really insulting them.  The students knew me by now.  I would smile the entire time to show the insults were tongue in cheek.  Besides, I always chose people who didn't seem to mind being picked on.  There was a method to my madness.  When I was in the 7th Grade, we had a teacher named Ed Curran who was quite a character.  For example, one day he taught us how to invert fractions by turning a small boy upside down.  He was so funny, we paid close attention to everything he said for fear of missing his next joke.  I was too young to realize we were accidentally learning something in the process.  So now I was doing the same thing.  I gave my students a hard time as a way to make the class more fun and it worked.  Due to my interest in Marla, I wasted no time singling her out.  To my delight, Marla was more than equal to the task of standing up to my teasing.  Although she never started the bickering, I discovered Marla was very skilled at counter-attack.  It turned out her sarcasm was more than equal to mine.

One of Marla's techniques was an uncanny ability to 'snipe'.  She would wait till I deliberately said something stupid, then whisper something snarky to her peanut gallery.  For example, if I was giving someone the razz treatment regarding a mistake they made, Marla would whisper loud enough for me to hear, "Maybe if Rick taught the move better, she would not have lost her balance."

Realizing she said it just loud enough for me to hear, I would forget my current victim and turn my wrath to Marla instead.  The class loved it.  Game on!  Other times, I would pick on Marla directly.  Marla typically sent my put-downs flying back across the net with considerable more zest.  I never admitted it, but I was secretly impressed when her comebacks were better than mine.  Marla did not say anything in a mean way, but she was definitely irreverent.  I did not mind when she won.  Laughter is good for a class.  In fact, I enjoyed her zingers so much, I would deliberately provoke her just to see what she would say.  I always got my wish.  I still remember one of her best comebacks.  To understand the exchange, it helps to know there were parallel Swing classes on Sunday and Monday.  Sunday came first, Monday came the following night.  Students could come on either night or they could come on both nights if they wished.  There was no extra charge to come twice, a fact our students greatly appreciated.  Attending parallel classes helped the slow learners get more practice.  It also gave students a way to catch up if they missed a week for business reasons or vacation. 

"Hey, Marla, I noticed you came on Monday as well as Sunday last week.  Was my Sunday class so difficult that you needed the extra practice?"

"No, I came for a different reason.  I heard a rumor that the Monday teacher was more fun than the Sunday teacher.  I didn't believe it, so I thought I would see for myself."

"What did you decide?"

Marla looked at her friends and grinned with a big wink.  "Oh, I'd rather not say."

The class was in stitches.  Marla read me perfectly.  This was the perfect squelch plus I had asked for it.  I could not help but notice we had no need to rehearse our lines.  Marla understood intuitively whenever I deliberately set myself up for a put-down.  She was always more than happy to deliver the counter-punch.  Did I mind getting the short end on our repartee?  No.  In fact, I loved it.  I have learned that laughter makes for a fun class.  Nor does it hurt to make myself the butt of the joke.  If I can insult them, insulting myself or letting Marla do it for me balanced the scales. 

Marla's ability as the perfect sparring partner was good for business.  Let me explain.  SSQQ operated much differently than other dance studios.  We did not use contracts to lock in long-term loyalty.  Our philosophy was pay at the door for one month at a time.  The cost was economical, typically a one-time charge of $40 for four two-hour classes with no obligation to continue.  Realizing how much students hate strong-arm sales pitches and signing contracts, we relied on ancient techniques such as 'Good Will' and 'Make it fun' to persuade them to return the following month.  Such a radical idea.  I believed if the students had fun, they would willingly return for the next level of class without any need for contracts.  This was a bold move because it ran totally contrary to the contract system studios had used for years.  To my relief, I discovered placing my trust in Good Will worked like a charm. 

There would always be some attrition.  Not everyone signed up for the next class.  That was to be expected.  However, every so often the entire group would continue forward en masse.  This occurred when a class 'bonded'.  They had so much fun together, they would sign up for the next month as a way to continue seeing their friends.  That is what happened with Marla's Sunday class.  I shouldn't brag, but the Rick and Marla Comedy Hour was the next best thing to Ricky Ricardo and Lucy.  I firmly believe Marla's clever comebacks had a lot to do with creating a group spirit. 

However, there was a problem I could not figure out.  Although Marla and I hit it off in dance class each Sunday, I ceased to exist the moment class ended.  Marla did not linger.  Nor did she bother to say goodbye.  She just picked up her purse and walked straight out the door.  Her lack of interest in me outside of class was baffling.  Let me explain.  Historically, any time I had been this strongly attracted to a woman, my interest turned out to be mutual.  I do not claim to be God's gift to women.  Given my history as a major nerd, I was always fearful of rejection.  However, I did have very good luck with a certain type of woman.  Sharp-witted women were drawn to me, especially if they shared my sarcastic streak.  Why was that?  Intelligent women lament the difficulty of finding men of equal caliber.  They yearn to find a man who can offer a periodic bon mot without stuttering, do not require constant flattery and do not expect a woman to 'play dumb' as prerequisite to friendship.  Since I fit this description to a tee, I expected a smart girl like Marla would notice my ability to match wits and thereby develop an interest.  No such luck.  Actually it was even worse than that.  Not every romance is flash fire.  In fact, most romances start as friendship, then gradually blossom into love.  I could not even get Marla to be a friend, much less a girlfriend.

I know this sounds pompous, but her indifference surprised me.  Marla and I would engage in friendly banter throughout class, but that rapport never extended any further.  As a result I was forced to resort to watching, wishing and waiting.  I noticed Marla always came alone.  She made instant friends in dance class, but there was no man who had any particular claim to her affection.  That was a relief.  I would have gone nuts if some guy had gotten the inside track before me.  As my interest grew, so did my teasing.  Surely Marla would realize the rapport we had in dance class would be just as effective on a personal level.  It didn't work.  To my dismay, the moment class was over, Marla was out the door.  Darn it!  She was the first woman I had ever met who fit the 'Profile', but failed to respond. 

How was this possible?  Hey, I'm the teacher.  The girls are supposed to notice me.  Even though I was suffering from a major loss of confidence due to my divorce, you wouldn't know it in dance class.  This is where I shine, so one would think my ability would rate at least a modicum of curiosity on Marla's part.  Nope, that didn't work either.  Now what do I do?  Some Readers might suggest asking Marla to stick around for a chat, you know, try a clever move like trip her or block the door.  Sorry, but that was not my style.  My confidence was far too badly damaged by the pending divorce to risk letting Marla know how I felt without any encouragement.  I have one firm rule.  Before I make a bold move, the woman must signal at least a glimmer of interest when I speak to her.  That never happened.  Marla was always pleasant, always cordial, but never warm.  Bedeviled by Marla's lack of interest, throughout March I had little choice but to stick to my role as dance teacher and keep my feelings to myself. 

FOURTH Sunday in MARCH, 2001

THE FIRST INTERVIEW

Finally I caught a break.  Or so I thought.  To my dismay, Marla had missed the fourth Sunday class.  Fearful that she would not return to the studio in April, I thought I had lost her.  As it turned out, Marla decided to skip Sunday and come the following Monday night instead.  I was greatly relieved when Marla appeared an hour early on Monday evening.  By chance I had come early too, so I paid attention as Marla sat down on a nearby couch.  Marla was sitting by herself, so I screwed up my courage and went over to chat.  If I saw any sort of opening, I promised myself I would ask her out.   Considering I had not asked a woman out on a date in ten years, this was a big step.  Feeling tentative, I pointed to an open spot on the couch.

"May I join you?"

"Be my guest," she said.

"What are you doing here so early?"

Marla replied, "I live pretty far from here, nearly an hour away.  Rather than drive home after work and come back, it was easier just to come to the studio directly."

With that, I began the standard 'Getting to Know You' interview.  In response to my questions, Marla said she lived in Kingwood, an affluent suburb.  She had a daughter named Marissa who was headed off to college in the fall.  Her dog's name was Peanut, a beagle.

"You once told me you are a sales rep.  I am not sure I understand what that entails." 

"I used to work for a sporting goods company in California, but now I am a sales representative for gift shop items.  Things like get-well cards and knickknacks."

"Are you talking about 'tchotchke'?"

Marla laughed.  "Where did you learn that word? Are you Jewish?"

"I used to play volleyball every Sunday at the Jewish Community Center.  You'd be surprised at some of the words I learned.  I learned that the definition for 'using your tuckus' means using your backside to make a good play.  Try to explain that one."

Marla laughed again.  "That's funny.  To answer your question, yes, some of my customers use 'tchotchke' to describe what I sell.  My job requires me to drive all over Houston and all over southeast Texas."

Having made Marla laugh twice, I was starting to get my hopes up.  Maybe that rapport could reach past the classroom after all.

"How did you get into that line of work?" 

"I have a knack for sales."

"You said you moved here from California?" 

"Yes.  I worked for Oshman's at the time.  When they decided to close their California office, they offered to transfer me here to their home office."

"That sounds like a major move."

"You're right, I was leaving my mother, my extended family, a lot of friends, and a lot of memories behind.  It was tough.  But good jobs aren't that easy to find."

"When was that?"

"1991."

"So you've been here ten years.  What do you think about Texas?"

"I don't know about the rest of Texas, but I am not fond of Houston.  It is hot, muggy and there is roadwork on every freeway.  Nor is the city much to look at.  I've never seen so many billboards in my life.  Ask me again in ten years."

Not exactly the cheerful response I expected, but I understood.  Marla was right about the freeways.  Thanks to people pouring into town to take advantage of Houston's healthy job market, the city was undergoing rapid expansion.  To relieve congestion, every freeway was currently being widened.  Only one problem.  The construction made the traffic even worse. 

Hoping to change the subject, I asked what first brought Marla to SSQQ. 

In response, Marla dropped a bombshell.  Marla told me her boyfriend Chris had brought her to the studio a year or so earlier for two months of Salsa classes.  My ears perked up.  This was news to me, and it was not good news.  There was something about the way she said 'Boyfriend' that sounded ominous and present tense as well.  Marla had always come to the studio alone.  So why did she come alone if she had a boyfriend? 

My next question revealed that Chris and Marla had been going together for six years.  When I heard that, my heart plummeted with anguish.  Oh damn.  Six years?  Seriously?  Six years is a long time!  Actually, that's an eternity.  Who the heck dates for six years?  For crying out loud, make up your mind.  Hiding my disappointment as best I could, my plans to ask Marla for a date faded quickly.  Filled with regret, I withdrew from the conversation at the next opportunity.  As I walked away, this felt hopeless.

MARCH-APRIL 2001

SAM

Although I was not dating anyone, I was not completely alone.  For half of every week, I had my ten year old daughter Sam to keep me company.  It was wonderful to have her around.  Sam was starting to smile again.  That went a long way towards alleviating my guilt.  Thinking about her, I realized whomever I brought into my life would need to click with Sam as well.  For the time being, it was less complicated to avoid getting serious about anyone.   

 

END OF MARCH

SINGING THE BLUES

I struggled mightily in the days following Marla's boyfriend revelation.  I have hinted at a checkered past when it comes to women.  While it is true that I dated some truly attractive women once my dance career kicked in, I was what one might call a late bloomer.  As things stood, over the past 50 years I had yet to win a head-to-head competition for the hand of a girlfriend.  Pat and Judy did not count.  My former wives had not been attached to anyone else when we met.  Why do you suppose I made it all the way to age 34 to marry?  By my count I had lost over a dozen times to the proverbial 'Better Man'.  

With the introduction of Chris into the equation, now I was facing another competition.  What were my chances?  Not very good.  Marla had been with this guy for six years.  Nor was Marla willing to give me any sort of toehold.  I did not understand what I was doing wrong, but so far I had failed to dent her radar.  Worst of all was the dark shadow of my past.  The best predictor of the future is one's past.  Given my dubious track record when forced to compete for a talented woman, Zero for 50 years, I expected to fail again. 

Here is what really bothered me.  Okay, I had been attracted by her looks.  But now that I had watched her in action during class, my appreciation had grown.  Marla was poised, she handled herself well.  I had been very impressed by what she had told me about herself.  Marla was a single mother who cared deeply about her daughter.  Marla was a successful business woman, so successful I had a hunch she was paying full tuition for Marissa's college education out of her own pocket.  I also gave her credit for the courage to leave her roots behind and move all the way to Texas despite not knowing a soul.  I could sense something very special about Marla, but what difference did it make?  I felt defeated before I even began to fight.   I still wondered about the meaning of the Thunderbolt, but decided it was all for naught. 

There was something very curious going on inside my heart.  In the past I had my share of crushes, but my crushes were always on women who at least smiled back.  Marla was the lone exception.  During our long talk I never got the slightest hint she might be interested in me.  Why should I bother with a woman who was completely oblivious?  Good question!  Nevertheless, Marla remained in my thoughts.  Try as I might, I could not get that Thunderbolt moment out of my mind.  I had never had a Thunderbolt quite like that before.  I wondered if it meant something.

There's an old saying, "He's met his match."  No one dared talk back to me like Marla.  No one wanted to invite further time on the hot seat.  But Marla was fearless; the public eye did not scare her.  Which is why the class loved it whenever Marla gave me a hard time.  I assumed this instant connection must mean something.  Historically, any time I met my match, the woman would notice and the feeling was mutual.  Not this time.  Marla liked me, but strictly as her dance teacher.  We had known each other for a month and not once had she asked a single thing about me.   Not a good sign.  Heck,  I could not even make her Friendship List.  Not once had she lingered to chat with me.

Why was she always in such a big hurry to leave?  My biggest fear was that she rushed to see her boyfriend.  Or maybe Marla was one of those women who expects the man to make the first move.  If so, I was in serious trouble.  Uncertain how to proceed, I decided to bide my time and look for another opening.  So far she had been the only woman who might stir me out of my blue funk.  But what difference did it make?

Tough luck, the girl is taken.  Forget about her.  Yeah, right.  I would if I could.

LAST WEEK IN MARCH
 

GUESS WHO SIGNED UP
FOR THE TRIP?

I was getting increasingly interested in this cruise trip I had organized.  In the space of five weeks, 48 people had signed up and we still had five months to go.  I did not know it at the time, but this was only the halfway point.  Our eventual total would reach 100. 

48 people in one month?  That was incredible!  It seemed like every day someone new hopped on board.  I was so tickled by the response that I had gotten in the habit of calling my travel agent Anne Adams for frequent updates.  One morning I checked in for my latest report.  As I hoped, Ann said someone had signed up yesterday.  Good.  We were up 49 now. 

"That's great," I replied.  "What's their name?"

"Some woman named Marla signed up yesterday."

My eyes widened and I sat up in my seat.  "Did Marla sign up alone or did she have a partner?"

"Marla signed up alone, but she asked for her girlfriend Sherry to be her roommate."

Well, I'll be darned.  No Chris??  In a flash, my hopes were revived.  This golden nugget seemed to confirm my instinct that Marla really did have one foot out the door.  The next time I saw Marla, I decided to try Interview Two.  Maybe now that Marla had joined my upcoming cruise, hopefully she would begin to show interest in me. 

I made sure to track Marla down the next time I saw her. 

"Hey, Marla, I've heard a couple rumors about you."

Marla smiled.  "Lies no doubt.  What did you hear?"

"I heard you and a group of people from your Swing class went dancing together the other night."

"That's actually true.  We went to a place called 'At the Hop'.  What's the other rumor?"

"A little birdie said you signed up for our dance cruise."

"That is also true.  My friend Sherry from dance class has been bugging me to be her roommate.  While we were at the dance club the other night, Sherry cornered me for a decision, so I said I would go."

When Marla acted like it was no big deal, I was confused.  If there had been a breakup to explain her decision to cruise on her own, there was no sign on her face that I could tell.  I decided to probe for more information. 

"You know, Marla, we have more women than men on this trip.  We could really use some more guys.  Is there any chance your boyfriend Chris will be signing up?" 

Actually the last thing I wanted was to have Chris join us, but I couldn't tell Marla that.  I decided a little misdirection was the easiest way to pry without revealing my true purpose. 

Marla shook her head.  "No, I doubt he'll sign up.  Chris prefers to take his trips on land.  Two years ago we went to Big Bend National Park for a week.  Last year we went to Costa Rica and had a great time.  Somewhere in there we visited Ixtapa as well.  Since Chris doesn't care for cruise trips, I thought it might be fun to go on this trip by myself and hang out with my new friends.  The idea of dancing on a cruise trip sounds very appealing."

I was flabbergasted.  What was Chris thinking?  This made no sense.  Marla was a very pretty girl who turned a lot of heads.  I would bet money I wasn't the only guy around here who had a crush on her.  Didn't Chris worry Marla might meet someone?  On the other hand, maybe Chris had good reason to be supremely confident.  So far Marla had seemed impervious to every man at the studio, not just me.  I wondered if Marla raised her Six Year Relationship flag for every man who approached her.

Despite my confusion, my instincts still insisted there was a problem here.  Why did Marla REALLY sign up alone?   If ever there was a time for Marla to reveal a rift in the relationship, this was it.  Nope.  Not a hint of rancor in her voice.  After two interviews, I was no closer to solving the mystery.  Why did I even bother?  Let's say I was right and Marla was having trouble in her relationship.  What difference did it make?  Based on her continuing indifference, it was unlikely Marla had me in mind for her next romance.  My hopes badly dashed, I walked away rather than let my disappointment show. 

Over the next six days I promised myself I would ignore Marla from now on.  Then came Monday night.  Like a lost puppy, there I was staring at the door waiting for Marla to come to class.  Hoping for a change in the weather, I asked a couple more questions the moment she walked in.  Marla answered politely, then walked away.  Seeing Marla turn her back really stung.  This was useless.  Marla's non-verbal message made it clear I was reading too much into the situation.  And so for the umpteenth time I vowed to forget her.  Nonsense.  More likely this sad vigilance would resume the next time I saw her.  In the meantime I would think about her every day.