Very tall D and I chatted off and on during the night. Towards the end of the night, we stood on the balcony and talked about books, commuting and blogging. The night was winding down and I looked around and realized I was the last person on the balcony. I went back in and the last song was playing. A throwback to high school, it was Eric Clapton’s Late in the Evening. (Le sigh.)
D was standing on the edge of the dance floor, playing with the commemorative wooden yo-yo we’d each been given. (AKA best wedding favor ever.) I was standing at the corner with my purse and shawl, looking to make an exit. He gave me a look straight out of a tango salon, so I put down my purse and he put down his yo-yo and we slow-danced.
It was nice.
It was very nice.
I need more slow-dancing in my life. I need more slow-dancing with very tall men in my life. As much as I say I don’t care how tall a guy is, let me say that slow-dancing with a man who is still taller than me when I’m in heels… that was very nice.
The song ended and the lights came up. The groom gave directions to all the men about where to carry what. He invited us all to the after-party and Beth invited me, too. I felt too weird waiting for people to actually go to the after-party, that I decided I’d go put jeans on first. I saw him across the parking lot one more time and headed to the Kendall Inn. After I sat down to change clothes I realized that was it. I didn’t make it back for the after-party, I just slipped off into dream land.
To do: Find a very tall man who will slow-dance with me.