The next few weeks were a blur. We couldn't get enough of each other. Our lives were completely intertwined and we kept finding ways to make it worse.
I remember standing in my kitchen decorating cupcakes for him to give her for Valentine's Day and thinking how much I wished someone were stressing over what would be special for me. I spent hours learning to West Coast Swing so that I could teach him and he would impress her. Learning specific moves and patterns to "wow" her. I also remember the look on his face when he told me that she spent Valentine's night at another man's house dancing, and the disappointment he felt when they went out together and she chose to dance with others; correcting him when his technique wasn't perfect. I'm not saying that this was an excuse, but he seemed so good and she seemed so cold. I wanted him to be the victim. I wanted to be the solution.
Sitting on the balcony overlooking the ocean I started our first real talk about "us" vs. "them". I asked him why and if he knew this was what he wanted. I asked him if he wanted to divorce her. I asked him if he wanted to work things out with her. I told him that he had 3 options to move forward: He could leave her or he could stay with her and give their relationship an honest chance. The only option that would be wrong would be to stay with her and not work to make it better. There it was... Stay and fight for it, Leave, or Roll over dead. I also offered options from me. I could be there for him, I could leave and never look back, or I could help him to win her back. I remember he asked me why I would do that and I didn't have an answer. I don't think he knew how badly I needed him to be the good guy. I don't think I knew that myself.
