So, after Fighter Pilot Dude’s kids — and his soon-to-be ex-wife — found out about the engagement, things got a little strained. I know – the mind reels! 🙄
When he wasn’t arguing with his ex about everything under the sun, he seemed to have plenty of leftover energy to pick fights with me.
Mostly about what I was doing.
Where I was going.
Who I was with.
You know…all the important national security issues.
Meanwhile, I was still in Florida living my life while he was in Nevada doing fighter pilot things.
My friends and I were close with the owners of a local wine bar, and sometimes after they closed, we’d stay behind, listen to music, drink wine and talk.
One night, we were having one of those nights.
Nothing planned. Nothing exciting.
Just laughing until your stomach hurts, music playing, wine flowing and everybody having a ridiculously good time.
I was dancing.
Someone dared me to dance on the bar.
Now…
Was this Coyote Ugly?
No.
Have I danced on the bar at Coyote Ugly?
Yes.
Different story.
But I had been dared.
And your girl has never been particularly gifted at walking away from a perfectly reasonable challenge involving questionable judgment.
So up on the bar I went.
I danced.
People laughed.
Nobody was injured.
No laws were broken.
Civilization continued.
Fast-forward to when Fighter Pilot Dude came to town and I brought him to the wine bar.
The owner — having absolutely NO IDEA he was about to launch an international incident — showed him the video.
It wasn’t scandalous.
I wasn’t grinding on anyone.
There weren’t men throwing dollar bills.
It was literally me…
Dancing.
On.
A.
Bar.
Fighter Pilot Dude lost his shit.
He was furious.
It was “undignified.”
It was “inappropriate.”
How could I possibly behave like that?
Sir.
I danced on a bar.
I didn’t overthrow a small government.
And here’s where we get to the giant, flashing, neon BUT.
This man could go out with his fighter pilot buddies whenever he wanted.
Where was he?
Who was he with?
What were they doing?
Who knows!
Apparently those details were classified.
He didn’t think he needed to tell me.
But somehow I was expected to provide a full flight plan every time I left my house.
And during one of our many discussions about this glaring little double standard, Fighter Pilot Dude actually said the words:
“Do as I say. Not as I do.”
Oh.
OH.
He really said it.
Out loud.
To me.
Bless his heart.
What he really seemed to want was for me to stay home in Florida, gaze longingly toward Nevada and patiently wait for my fighter pilot to return.
That was adorable.
Yeah.
Nope.
I had friends.
I had daughters.
I had a life.
And I wasn’t going to stop living it simply because the man I was engaged to wasn’t there to supervise me.
Which, in hindsight, was exactly the problem.
Because the closer we got to me packing up my home, my daughters, my furniture and my entire life to move to Nevada…
the more intense his need to know where I was, what I was doing and who I was with became.
He wanted me in Nevada.
At the time, I thought it was because he couldn’t wait for us to finally start our life together.
Looking back?
I think he couldn’t wait until I was close enough to keep an eye on.
And things were about to get very intense.
But first…
… apparently we needed to discuss my dangerous career as a wine-bar backup dancer.
Until next time…..xoxo
Tracy
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