For me, cupid has a waxed chest, irritating smirk and wears glittering, bedazzled high heels. Yes, he's Michael Flatley, Lord of the Dance.
I was reminded of this recently, when Dancing With The Stars was graced with the stylings of Mr. Flatley and his goose stepping company of dancers. While admiring their rapid fire, synchronized footwork, I was transported to the night, more than ten years ago, when I met Chief for the very first time.
Our mutual friend Tanya was positive we were perfect for each
other, so she engineered a meeting at a club, then somehow maneuvered
us both into her tiny two seater hoopdee for a ride home.
On the way, we passed the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium where the upcoming show was advertised on the marquee: Michael Flatley, LORD OF THE DANCE!
That set Chief off and running on a ten minute rant, complete with brogue, offensive allusions to the Irish, drinking, gays, dancing, dwarves and God Knows what else. I laughed so hard I really did fear peeing myself. He was (and still is) the funniest straight guy I ever met.
It took a little more time (and me finally asking him out on the first date) for us to become a couple, but Chief had me from that very first diatribe.
Thank you, Michael Flatley, for being such a tool. We owe it all to you.
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