Marvin Gaye, Piano Bars, and Nostalgia

Sometimes the nostalgia is cozy and warm, and sometimes it hurts like hell. Today, it makes me want to curl up in bed and take a nap until either I don’t love him anymore or til he comes back (with his act together). Thinking like that isn’t necessarily conducive to healing or happiness, but it’s just where I am right now. I’ve wanted to write this for a while–since it happened actually, because I never wanted to forget the most minute of details from that night–but maybe now is the right time to share about my favorite memory with him.

It was this summer, just a couple months into us dating. He had asked me a couple days prior to keep the evening open but hadn’t told me yet what we’d be doing. I got dressed up and drove to his place, and it turned out we were going on a double-date with one of his teammates (J) and J’s girlfriend, both of whom I’d met previously and liked. We went out to eat and then ended up at a nearby piano bar afterward.

We had a fun evening drinking and singing along with the pianists (though he made me bring his song request up to them, because he said I was “the beautiful one here”), and eventually, his friends decided to call it a night. Being the night owls that we are, we stayed a while longer to enjoy the music. Right after they headed out, however, the musicians decided it was time to have people come up on stage for a bit of interactive entertainment. He called for three guys and three girls, included one guy who was having his bachelor party there that night.

But of course, he scanned the room and his gaze settled on us, so he called us up and said that he needed at least one set to “actually be a couple.”

It turned out that we were all competing to gain the crowd’s approval through a series of dances to whatever the pianists played and specified. We went through and showed our best “white people dances” as requested, including the sprinkler, the lawn mower, etc. After each of the first two full rounds, the crowd voted. Of course, the bachelor had his whole cheering section, but S. and I are competitive and were pretty determined to head back victorious. As soon as they started playing “Let’s Get it On” and we were all instructed to simulate having intercourse, I knew we were about to have this one in the bag. đŸ˜‰

Both of us being athletes, including a cheerleading background for each, we figured there were a couple things we could pull out that might seal the deal. I looked up at him and told him to get ready, because I was about to throw my leg over his shoulder for this one (side note: he’s a foot taller than I am, so it’s lucky that I used to be a flyer!). The crowd, of course, loved that–and thankfully, not because I was revealing all my lady parts, since he made sure to gather my dress to protect my modesty!

He looked down at me and told me to be ready, because he was about to pick me up and put me on the piano for our grand finale. He lifted me up and over his head, my hands firmly on his shoulders, and all I remember from that moment was feeling absolutely beautiful, safe, and blissfully happy as I looked down at him and he twirled me around. If ever there were a moment to describe how he made me feel, why I fell for him and loved him so hard, it was this one.

As predicted, the crowd (and our musicians, who were quite amused) definitely loved our “performance.” When they took the final voice vote from the crowd, the pianist looked at the bachelor party and said, “Sorry guys, normally there’s no way this win would not go to the bachelor…but we just can’t argue with those two down there.” I got on the tips of my toes and kissed him right there on stage; he’d never looked so handsome. Then, before we got off stage, a guy in the front row handed me a napkin with his phone number on it–citing my leg-over-the-shoulder prowess–and S. and I cracked up.

We stepped down to go get our reward (a refunded entry fee) and I remarked to him that there sure were a lot of jealous women in there tonight. He responded in something of a scoffing manner and said, “Women? There are a lot of jealous men! You’re the one getting phone numbers on napkins…and look how they’re all staring at you.” He was right, of course, but so was I. In that moment, I felt like the luckiest woman in the world. I still felt that way every time I got to be with him after that…but I suppose that wasn’t reciprocated, then. That’s a hard thing to swallow.

Maybe I’m a Sentimental fool, but good God I would have loved you forever.


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