As we danced hand in hand, I had flashbacks of high school. Looking around the dance floor I was reminded of the sheer awkwardness of dancing with a boy in my youth. Sweaty hands, lack of conversation or bad breath usually made me eager for the song to be over. Now after twelve years of loving the same man, eight of them being married to him; it is with great pleasure we glide around the dance floor. I do not claim to have a perfect marriage, but I am smart enough to see we have a really good thing going.