MY HUSBAND WAS RIGHT; THE CROTCH CONCESSION

It’s rare, but it happens on occasion, when you can sincerely say, “Honey, you were right.”  These words were spoken in March of 20011 but our story commences in October 2010.

My husband and I are the co-directors of Tango Fusion Dance Company in Saratoga Springs, New York; a company that was once stationed in New York City, invited to perform in Argentina and now that we live in Saratoga and are parents, it’s recent incarnation has performed around the Northeast.  Tango is the backbone of the company, but we also dance and choreograph a fair amount of salsa and swing as well as incorporating ballet and jazz.  The majority of the time, the 4 to 5 couples dance with the same person, but we also enjoy shaking it up and having different company members dance with each other.

Such was the case last Fall(2010) when we were preparing a new Salsa number for our Fall show at the Charles Wood Theatre in Glens Falls and my husband and company member Deb Otto- Jones were slated to partner in the new four person piece: Shaky –Shaky.  Deb is a well trained ballet dancer; my husband is also strongly trained in ballet so I expected the piece to contain some fun lifts.  Johnny is happy to lift and Deb is delighted to be airborne.  I was not prepared.

Whenever Johnny works a piece with a company member, I generally come in after the majority of the choreography is finished to watch and perhaps offer some suggestions.  The piece did indeed offer up some exciting lifts including the one that starts with the woman jumping and being simultaneously lifted on the man’s shoulders with her legs apart; not in back of his head but right in front.  The crotch in the face moment gives one pause.  After a quick re-gripping of the hands and wrists, the lift continues with the woman flipping down to the floor and the fun didn’t stop there.  Deb then proceeded to do progressive splits forward with my husband’s help.  I believe I stayed fairly cool and said something like, “that’s   some prep.” And left it at that.

A week later, they were rehearsing the lift in front of Deb’s husband and myself and I said to Richard, “Have you seen the crotch lift yet?”

To which he naively and nonchalantly responded, “No.”

“Just wait.” I said.

He turned to me after the crotch lift with raised eyebrows and said, “I see.”

I said to Richard, “It gives one pause doesn’t it?” He agreed and we immaturely decided that we needed to work a crotch lift equivalent into any time that we danced together in our show.

Well, a crotch lift equivalent never came to pass and after gently teasing Johnny and Deb about the lift, they both said that it took much concentration to get the correct hand grip in that position.  I believe that my husband’s exact words were,”Honey – the position is not titillating.  At the time I am concentrating on keeping Deb safe as she flips to the floor.”  Deb concurred.

Nonetheless, even though both couples have been in the dance business a long time, danced with others and many Tango Fusion Dance Company steps and positions would not fly in the non-dance world, that  face to crotch position caught my eye until…

Last Saturday, I was rehearsing some of the cast of RENT (I am choreographing the show to be performed at the EGG in April) for the number “Contact.”  Overall, the show does not hold back on sexual content and the musical number “Contact” takes the cake.  One of the main characters, Angel, has died and the piece depicts his release from this world through sexual movement.  So-----I had the cast rolling around on the floor attached to each other, thrusting each other against the wall, mounting each other in various facings and pulling hair. 

We were rehearsing at our studio in our home and I invited my husband upstairs to help us with some lifts.  To give him an idea of what we were doing, we did a run –through and since one cast member was missing, I stepped in to fill her shoes.  Naturally, I’m thinking that this will be my husband‘s comeuppance  and he now can witness me thrusting, straddling, and performing intimate acts not meant for public consumption. 

However, that’s not what happened.  Instead I had an epiphany when I realized how much I had to concentrate counting the music to make my next move on time and make sure that it looked good and keeping my partner safe.  The athleticism it required to maintain our positions, hold our partners and pick up our partners overpowered any sexual experience.  Actually, we ended up laughing a great deal of the time and getting a terrific work-out.

So – I guess the crotch lift is not just a crotch lift.  Although my husband waited a full 5 months for my realization to come to pass, he took my concession well and did not hold it over my head.  Now, how about that butt lift?


(Check out the video and pay special attention at 2:50 to witness the crotch lift)

Diane Lachtrupp Martinez

BACK IN THE DOG HOUSE

    

        In any marriage, there seems to be one person who is in the dog house more than the other.  In our marriage, I am the frequent occupant of the dog house.  It goes in waves.  Some weeks I make it through without a scratch and others, well ......it is almost a daily occurrence.  Last week, my offense was so severe, that I headed out to the dog house twice.

        I had been invited to play tennis with a group of women last Wednesday morning January 19th,  from 8am to 9:30 at the Wilton YMCA. My husband also had to leave the house early to work ( directing a show) not for recreational purposes.  I had arranged for our younger son to go to the neighbors at 8:15 am to play before school.  Normally, my husband would take the car that was outside and I would take the garaged car that required no de-icing.  Feeling mature, I opted to take the outside car (named Rosa - 2003 Honda Odyssey) and left the inside car Bob ( 1992 Honda Odyssey) for my husband. 

       Feeling confident in my generosity, I drove off to my tennis match.  My tennis match was going along swimmingly, until my husband strode across the court with purpose at 8:55 am.  It doesn't look good and I go over to him with trepidation.  He asked quietly if ," I have the keys to Bob."  Apparently, he had no keys for our car Bob and was wondering if I did.  Immediately, it struck me that not only did I  have my set of keys for Bob, but his set as well. 
         I was not picking up my cell phone and the YMCA was not giving messages, so driving over was his only option to secure the keys to our car Bob.  How did he get there?  My neighbor (where my younger son was supposed to go) offered her car.  So my husband and son walked to the neighbor's home, de-iced their car and set off for the tennis courts at the gym.
         And so there he was striding away after taking both sets away from me.  No kiss, no good bye, nothing.  I felt like an officer being stripped of her rank.  It brought me back to a time last summer, when I apparently had both sets of keys for the car and I was at the baseball field at East Side Rec.  My phone again unreachable, my husband had no choice but to ride his bike to the baseball field to retrieve the keys.  It was the first but not the last time, that my husband strode across an athletic field with purpose to search my pockets and back pack.
         After leaving the tennis court, I called my neighbor several times to gage my husband's mood while he was at her house borrowing the car.  What did I have to look forward to when my husband came home?  There was no answer after two phone calls and I was left to wonder about his mood upon his return.
           After residing in the dog house for two days, I found myself on Friday on the very same court that my husband had strode across on Wednesday.  AND - I was there playing tennis with my husband, the helpful neighbor and another friend was the fourth partner.  At the end of our game, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to bring up Wednesday's antics with several of the key players present.  My husband winced as I started to tell the story and started to make his way off the court.  I couldn't help but notice that helpful neighbor seemed non-plussed by our story: and here's why.
          Helpful neighbor's family key stories way surpassed ours.  Apparently, her husband had on several occasions taken keys to Albany. Not Wilton - Albany. Well - my sin paled beside that one.  A second story outshone the first.  Friendly neighbor and husband had flown into Stewart airport (exit 17 south of us) on an evening flight.  Her husband had somehow misplaced the car keys forcing them to get a hotel room overnight and contact a locksmith in the morning. Wow!  My star was rising but unfortunately my husband was unable to witness it and hear these stories first hand.  Our fourth tennis partner and I were in awe of the strength of the helpful neighbor's marriage.  Could our marriages have survived such key mishaps?

          On the drive home from the tennis court, I relayed helpful neighbor's stories to my husband.  He seemed mildly impressed and rightly so.  The next day when he went to take our car Rosa to his director job, she wouldn't start.  My younger son had left the light on in the car the day before and worn done the battery.  Who was the parent in charge? You guessed it. Back in the dog house.


Feel free to comment with family/key stories of your own.

Diane Lachtrupp Martinez