I’ve Had the Time of My Life
in Must Be Nice on March 28, 2022
If anyone tells you that you can’t hear a picture, simply show them this one.
Since I was twelve years old, I have desperately wanted to dance with someone like Johnny from the film Dirty Dancing. I have dreamed of doing this impossible lift and just openly dance as though no one was watching with a room full of my friends.
Granted, this is also coming from a woman who is still holding out hope that she IS in fact, an actual Disney princess, so take that for what you will.
I was in my car yesterday, sunroof open, windows down (it was an exceptionally gorgeous day in Houston), making my way through my errand list, scanning radio stations, when the song (I’ve Had) The Time of My Life rang loud and clear through my speakers.
The volume went up, and the gas pedal went down.
I was instantly transported to the crowded main hall of Kellerman’s resort, nestled in the Catskills of New York.
Thankfully, I was on a relatively empty highway on the outskirts of Houston, so most drivers were spared the spectacle taking place inside my SUV.
As the song (and my Grammy-winning performance) wore on, my mind swirled and my eyes filled. While song lyrics do have a tendency to trigger deep emotions, that was not the whole reason for the impromptu waterworks.
Jeff and I celebrated our 22nd wedding anniversary on March 14.
Yes, 22 years.
We’ve been together for 23 years. For anyone who knows me, those 23 years equal half my life.
I moved to Houston over Thanksgiving weekend in 1998 from Austin. I drove a Mazda Protégé, and it was packed to the gills with most everything I owned. My parents followed behind me, pulling a trailer with my pathetic renditions of furniture.
I had lived in Austin for my entire life. I was working as a nail tech in a successful salon. I had a full book of loyal clients. Everyone I loved most in the world lived within a 15-mile radius of my apartment. Despite all of that, I did not renew my lease at my apartment, I hugged all of my coworkers and clients goodbye, promised to come home at least twice a month, pointed my car dead East, and made the two-and-a-half-hour drive to the fourth largest city in the nation.
I knew one person.
I had no apartment.
I barely had a job.
I was a very little fish, swimming (floundering) in an angry and immense ocean.
Why in the wide world would I pack up my life and move 150 miles away from everything I had ever known?
Simple.
I was hiding.
In a city rapidly closing in on four million residents, looking for an individual 22-year-old would be something akin to looking for a piece of hay in a haystack.
When I decided to uproot my life and effectively jump ship, I was coming out of an extremely terrible, destructive, dangerous, and abusive relationship. I knew the only way to ensure that I would ever thoroughly be rid of that particular monster was to go where no one could find me.
Even though the move was, without a doubt, the right and healthy choice, I was still incredibly nervous, unsure, and, at times, downright terrified to start from nothing.
For months, I slept on the couch of the only friend I had in the city. She and her husband graciously opened their apartment to me. They sheltered me, fed me, and loved me, expecting absolutely nothing in return except an occasional request to babysit their little one so they could enjoy a date night.
I worked at a nice salon that surrounded me with kind and loving people. I was safe. I was employed. But…
I was lonely and depressed.
I questioned my decision to move to Houston multiple times every single day. I had no idea that roughly six months later, I would meet the Man of my Dreams. After the years-long ordeal I had survived back home, looking for a man was not even considered as a bullet point on my to-do list.
As life would happen, a friend of mine from work went through a terrible divorce. During the weeks following that event, she was eager to replace her ex-husband with an upgraded version. Although, in all honesty, her taste left much to be desired! I mean, really, how good were the chances of finding a stellar and stand-up guy while cruising the local honky-tonks? We’ll just put a pin in that thought and leave you with the understanding that she was determined.
Living in the fourth largest city in the United States has some concerns. For starters, safety in dark parking lots and crowded bars with inebriated cowboys and roughnecks ranked high among those concerns. I was one of only a couple of single gals at the salon and couldn’t in good conscience allow her to go out alone. Although, in hindsight, I’m not sure what my 5’3”, 110-pound self could have done to fend off any would-be bad guys, other than provide her with company in whatever trunk we might end up in!
It was during one of these outings that I almost met my future husband. One night in late July of 1999, I was doing an exceptionally poor job of babysitting my friend—she had completely abandoned me for a dark-headed-mustached cowboy and left me sitting alone at the Taco Truck outside the Longhorn Bar.
It was closing in on 2:00 in the morning. I was tired, bored, and in an intensely foul mood.
Enter a tall and dark mustached man, stage right, and heading right toward me.
All these years later, I feel sorta bad for my abrupt and unfriendly behavior. But with that said, I am exorbitantly grateful this man did not spook easily. His name was Richard, and for lack of a better word, he was Jeff’s wingman.
Richard stood in front of me, talking up his “shy” buddy who was standing at least 30 feet away and doing his level best to get my name and number. Most of his (slightly) entertaining efforts were fruitless. The one bit of information I did divulge was my first name and my place of employment.
Jeff called me at work the very next morning, and from that first date, I knew my life was never going to be the same.
I have never been more right.
We were married seven months late—and the rest, as they say, is history.
Over the last 23 years, I have experienced safety, hope, and love. I have seen and done things that most people only see on TV. I have traveled the world and found that there actually is no place like home. Through the years, Jeff has fought the dragons of my past and slayed every one. Each time a new head appears, he simply picks up his sword and strikes clean and sure. He made me a wife, a best friend, and a mother.
The years I spent before I met him seem like they belong to someone else, and I’m simply looking at those memories through a very dirty window.
I have had the time of my life.
Baby, I am so thankful for you. I laugh when I think that I actually did find a stellar, stand-up guy at a bar! I have been blessed immeasurably just by being able to do life with you. Here’s to the tipping point of being privileged enough to claim that I’ve known you the majority of my life.
I love you.
One thought on “I’ve Had the Time of My Life”
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Tammy says:
Love you guys so much!!!