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We Did It All For Love.

The year was 1988. It was cold, stormy night in Buffalo New York but the cafeteria where the Williamsville South Homecoming Dance was being held wasn't. We’d spent the days and weeks leading up to this moment decorating our drama club float, painting our faces blue and white, and cheering our football team to victory. I didn’t have a date, but rather, went as a group with my friends.

Suddenly, “The Glory of Love” by Peter Cetera, slowed the tempo of the room down, and the couples that had come together as well as those that found one another at the dance, split off and got close. The room was dark, but not so dark that you couldn’t see the faces and forms of the other dancers and those milling around the snack table or grabbing a glass of punch. I’d been waiting for this tune. I’d heard it on the radio in the car when the boy I was convinced was my destiny drove me home from school only weeks before. My 15 year old self was convinced that if he asked me to dance to this song on that night, it meant our fate was sealed. We were in love, and would be together forever. The opening chords to the (dreadful) song are distinct, and as they boomed out of the rented DJs equipment, I saw him walk toward me. I had strategically placed myself almost at the dance floor’s center so as to give fair Romeo easy access when our moment came, and it was looking like this was the moment, playing out in my head exactly as I had imagined it one hundred times before. I took a deep breath and put on my best (my lord, I must have looked terrifying) “come hither” smile and rolled my shoulders back so that my arms would easily slide around his neck. As he drew closer, my heart skipped a beat and I took a deep breath ready to accept kismet and closed my eyes. When they fluttered open a second later, I was just in time to watch him side step me and ask the girl standing less than ten feet behind me to dance.

There I was, alone, standing on a dance floor with couples trying to avoid the teacher chaperones, holding each other close. I suddenly realized I looked like a fool and thought I was panicked, my feet felt rooted to the floor and I couldn’t move. I could feel the tears coming and my vision started to swim, when suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulders spinning me around. It was Michael, my best friend since the sixth grade. He’d witnessed the entire scene from his spot on the other side of the room, and like the dancer he was, gracefully spun me around the dance floor with a big smile on his face, saving the night and what I believed was my reputation. “He’s a loser” he whispered in my ear “let’s dance and then get out of here.”

Thirty three years later, he got married to the love of his life, and as it has always been, I was there for his moment the same way he has always been there for mine; for the good and for the bad. I wasn’t blessed with siblings, but I wouldn’t trade him for the world. We always take selfies when we are together, mostly to show how fabulous we still look, and I think this one perfectly captures both who we are and who we have always been.



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