Rock Hudson and Doris Day or "How We Met!"

Well, hello lovelies! I received a response to one of my Facebook postings yesterday….from a cousin of mine. Essentially, my posting was about my arrival to Chicago, and how I’d changed during my 30 years there. My cousin was curious about how The Hubby and I met during that time. Now, for many years, my family and I had adopted an unspoken “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy regarding my sexual orientation…which eventually crumbled over the years. I mean what grown man sobs uncontrollably on the shoulder of his “roommate” at his mother’s funeral? And, of course, my father came to visit us….and then later called The Hubby to tell him how glad he was that I had him in my life. That was a sweet moment.

Oh, yes, and the time The Hubby made my stepmother her FIRST martini, and they commenced to have “girl talk” about their respective husbands. I can only imagine what was discussed. And then my official coming out via the snow-blower incident (see blog entry: MY FAVORITE TIME OF YEAR). But this is the first time I’ve written about my private life to a member of my family. It’s feels never Michael “Mouse” Tolliver’s “Letter to Mama” from Armistead Maupin’s TALES OF THE CITY (you must read this series, or at least watch the 1993 version on Netflix). Anyhow, since this is a rather significant bit of writing, I shall try to make certain that my grammar isn’t nearly as horrific…because I hope this might eventually get passed among my relatives.

So, how did I meet The Hubby?

In an opium den.

No, really it’s not especially dramatic, but kinda sweet….almost Hallmark Christmas Movie Romance material! Well, I like two-stepping….getting all dressed up in my cowboy gear and fringed chaps (yee-haw!), and there were a couple of LGBTQIA (google it!) bars in Chicago that had country-western events. And The Hubby was always at these events dancing…and who could miss him? The big dark moustache, the salt and pepper hair, the twinkling blue eyes! And there was that Christmas I saw him on the elevated train platform wearing a black cowboy duster and cowboy hat….with an evergreen bough in his hat! I was smitten! Once he even asked me to two-step, and my heart stopped. Anyway, he was also a member of the Chi-Town Squares, the local LGBTQIA (Did you google it yet?) square dance club. And the group would dance a couple of times during the country-western nights. They always had so much fun on the dance floor.

But I was suffering from unrequited love…because it was obvious that The Hubby was part of a couple. So I just suffered in silence. My dating life had been very sporadic at the time, so I thought I’d join the square dance club and take dance lessons….and it didn’t hurt that I occasionally saw the object of my affection at class. And I had a wonderful time learning to square dance and meeting so many new friends. You should try it sometime!

Anyhow, I had started dating a non-square-dancer (NSD, I just made up that abbreviation!) just before I left to visit my family for the Holidays. Alas, during my absence NSD had reconciled with his old boyfriend (OBF?)….I didn’t know that I had caught NSD on the rebound, and he had bounded back to his OBF. And NSD broke up with me OVER THE PHONE; I didn’t even get a nice break-up dinner! Grrrr!

After the holidays, the square dance classes resumed. I guess I was feeling a little down because The Hubby asked me about how I spent my holidays. I sighed, “I thought I was dating somebody but now I’m not.” And, amazingly he said the same thing to me! His relationship had ended around the same time! That same class, there was an announcement that the club would be sending a contingent out to the suburbs to participate in “travelling squares.” How to explain this? The Chi-Town Squares is part of a larger organization of square dance clubs. I can’t remember the name, but we were the only LGBTQIA (Do you know what it means now?) club in the organization. Well, every few months there would be a larger dance, in which all the clubs were invited to participate. Anyway, The Hubby turned to me and asked me if I wanted to go with him! A date!

Well, the big dance was mostly populated with much older straight couples in cute square dance gear. The elderly women wore buttons that said “No Twirling Please!” After seeing us whoop and holler and general acting campy as hell….well, everyone wanted to dance with our group! We had a great time. But the dance eventually ended. And it came time for The Hubby to drive me home. The roads were very slippery (he was driving a little compact ford pick-up), and the snow really started to fall. It turned into a blizzard, and it was very stressful driving back to the city. Eventually, we made it back, and The Hubby wanted to stop at his place before driving me back to mine; I lived about two miles away. He explained that he was very stressed from the drive, and want to relax with a drink and listen to some music before taking me home. What a line! It sounded like the premise for a Rock Hudson/Doris Day romantic comedy, and I was Doris Day! YAY!

Well, I stayed the night, and we began dating each other exclusively…and nine months later, I moved in with him. And, the rest, as they say is history. Come on, you don’t expect me to recount almost 30 years of memories in one column! Oh, I left out the part when his OBF tried to win him back. I thought I was cursed, but I prevailed in the end! I’ll share that fretful episode for another time.

So how are Rock Hudson and Doris Day doing? Just fine, thank you very much. Although my comparison of myself to Doris Day was in error! You see, the night of the blizzard, The Hubby had really planned on driving me home, but I HAD SEDUCED HIM!! HE was Doris Day, and I was Rock Hudson!