What a sobering thought to realize I might not have been the catch I thought I was. Especially since, by the time I met my husband, I was thirty years old and felt damn good about the person I had become. It was just seven years earlier I dared exercise my independence and free-will by mustering up the courage to move to NYC.
But I was good at this whole duality thing. Why? Well, #1 I'm a Gemini. And #2, I made an art-form out of living a double life during my emotionally conflicted teens when I was torn between the worlds of a.) pleasing my religious mother and b.) living authentically. My high school experience was a mash-up of school followed by ballet class, weekend rehearsals, and homework. Plus, home Bible study, 5 meetings/week at the Kingdom Hall, and preaching the "good news of the Kingdom" from door-to-door.
My lack of sex was a complete non-issue to me. I had more serious concerns to worry about, like, finding another way to greet my day without saying “I hate my fucking life!”. Everyday I tried talking myself into believing I was happy when really I was scared, lonely and uncertain about my future. I didn’t even have the energy to search for happiness.
Just before my afternoon rehearsal, my BFF and I decided to meet in the park to catch up on life. This girl is the closest of the close of my “sister-friends” and was the maid of honor in my New England wedding. We’d known each other since 1993 when we were on a dance scholarship at Broadway Dance Center. She was a baby-doll dress, combat boot-wearing recent High School graduate from a small town in New Jersey.
