Recently, I took a long, hard look at myself. And realized there is a yawning gap in my experiences, something I have always promised myself I'd do before I die.
Jessica Burgess
Clearly Unedited
I have never engaged in "couple skate."
Flashback: A summer day in Denton, Texas. The year was 1987.
The hot place to get dumped for hours by your parents was the town's only roller rink.
During the day, the pace was fast and the music pounded. Deniece Williams would enthusiastically invite you to "hear it for the boy."
But late at night (5:30 p.m.), the mood would change.
The lights would dim romantically. The disco light would slowly turn. The song "(I Just) Died In Your Arms" would pulse sensuously. And all the other sixth-graders would glide hand-in-hand onto the rink, while I sat at a table and ate nachos.
The roller rink had great nachos.
But my lonely, cheese-sauced childhood is years past. Now I am a mature woman in an adult relationship with a guy who is utterly devoted to me as long as I do not run out of Rohypnol.
It was time, I decided, to finally couple skate.
We went to our local rink and rented skates, and I headed for the little kids' skating area to practice. My boyfriend cast longing glances toward where the big kids were skating.
He grew up in Wisconsin, where apparently there is very little for children to do besides skate and hunt whales. That means that not only do we have a pantry full of blubber, but he is also really good on skates.
"Go ahead," I said. "I'll practice by myself and probably fall and crack my head open and then these kids will have to go to therapy to get over the sight of my brain fluids oozing under their wheels."
"Yay!" he said, and darted off.
Soon, he was tearing around the rink, showing off fancy moves such as the "crossover" and "the triple axle." As he whizzed by, he shrieked, "I'm Sasha Cohen!" then fell down.
Suddenly, the lights dimmed. Some unintelligible song came on.
(I don't know what the kids are listening to these days, but it's crap.) The disco ball slowly turned. It was the moment I'd been waiting for.
My boyfriend and I skated, hand in hand. Little kids zoomed by us, staring at us like we were perverts. It was kind of boring.
And after all those years of yearning, I suddenly realized that I hadn't been missing much at all.
"Hey," I said to my boyfriend. "This sucks. Want some nachos?"
Next on Jessica's list is trying out for the drill team. E-mail her at jburgess@quickdfw.com.
