Well, I am officially bummed out. Willa and Max were voted off of “Dancing with the Stars” tonight. Willa Ford, the “star” half of the duo, danced beautifully last night, and Max, her professional-dancer partner? Let’s just say Max put stars in my eyes.
Max is Maksim Chermerkovskiy. Even if I didn’t like to watch ballroom dancing, which I definitely do, I‘d have watched this show for Maksim-um exposure. So what if Social Security is lurking right around the corner? I’ve never met a woman of any age who didn't enjoy looking at a handsome man.
Max’s brooding good looks and hungry-lion dance moves make me want to pull out my old favorite romance novels –- the Kathleen E. Woodiwiss series, for example –- and reread them all, this time with a mental image of Max as the hero. Now that I look closely at those book jackets, every one of the guys in the cover art looks very much like Maksim.
My romance-novel phase ended about 20 years ago, so I don’t actually know if I’d like them as much now as I used to. In fact, last time I read one, I found myself skimming over all the pages that once would have caused me to linger. (Tip for readers of romance novels: The word “turgid” is a literary code word which, when it appears in a novel, signifies that the reader may safely skip the next two pages without missing any pivotal plot points.)
Still, it might be fun to fantasize. In real life, I’ve always thought my perfect mate would be the professor type, the quiet but confident, intelligent man in a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches. (Who knows? I might meet someone like that at the Social Security office.) But is there a little part of me that can appreciate a long-haired fancy man who wears patent-leather dancing shoes? As this photo (Miami Beach, 1971) clearly shows, you bet there is!
Disclaimer #1: Lest you think I'd gone totally wild, somewhere in the world is a matching photo of my then-husband on stage with the female half of the flamenco dance duo. We were picked from the audience to particpate in their floor show.
Disclaimer #2: I'd had absolutely nothing to drink but Coca-Cola.
Disclaimer #3: I NEVER -- not once -- let my dark roots grow that long without a touchup. It must have been a shadow.