Nobody Puts George in a Corner
- Feb 19
- 3 min read
When the committee for the Survivor Resource Center's event Dancing for the Stars called and asked if I would be one of this year’s “stars,” I did what any rational adult would do. I laughed. Out loud. And immediately declined.
They assured me I would be paired with a professional dancer, which felt generous and mildly delusional considering I do not, in any meaningful sense, dance. I told them I would think about it, which in my language means I will go home and process this out loud with George.
So that night I casually joke, “You will not believe this, but they asked US to dance in a competition.” I fully expected him to tell me to kick rocks. My husband is many wonderful things, but a professional dancer who seeks out a spotlight is not one of them. He is happiest when he is building behind the scenes, solving the problem, or standing just outside the frame while someone else takes the picture.
Instead, he looked at me and said, “Well… what would we dance to?”
It was such an unexpected answer that I just stared at him. I tried again. “No, like, on stage at the Fischer Theatre in front of people.” He shrugged. “Okay. So what would we dance to?”
That is how this happened.
That is how the man who would normally volunteer to stack chairs instead of perform in front of them agreed to rehearse choreography with me for a March 14 fundraiser benefiting the Survivor Resource Center. He did not suddenly discover a lifelong love for jazz hands. He simply could not find a compelling reason to say no to something that supports a good cause and gives us an excuse to spend time together. The fact that it involves actual dancing seems to be a detail he has chosen to overlook.
We started dating before we were old enough to have impressive dreams. There was no master plan. No vision board. There were just two kids who liked each other and kept choosing one another. Somewhere along the way those choices became a life.
So when business entered the picture, it never felt like my solo leap. It felt like the next shared experiment. When I start dreaming out loud, he does not brace for impact. He leans in. When leadership gets heavy, he does not compete with it or critique it from the sidelines. He stands next to it and asks, “What do you need?” which is both romantic and wildly practical.
He is also the only person who can look at a stressful situation and say, completely straight faced, “If this all goes sideways, we’ll sell the house and live in a van down by the river,” and somehow make that feel reassuring. Mostly because I suspect he would prefer that life and likely already has a floor plan for the van.
That is what twenty-two years together builds. An instinct to bet on each other. A rhythm that does not require applause. A partnership in leadership and in life that makes risk feel like adventure instead of threat.
He has never campaigned for the center of attention. But he has always been my center. Which makes watching him step into an actual spotlight, just because we can do it together, one of my favorite plot twists yet.
On March 14, we will dance to support the Survivor Resource Center and the invaluable work they do for survivors in our community.
We hope you'll consider supporting their work by voting for us for us or another couple for the People’s Choice Award.
Every vote is a donation that directly funds their services. You can vote using the link below.
With love, and jazz hands,
Annie
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