The Jig

Last week, I got a birthday card from my friend Natalie.  The front of the card showed a bunch of cartoonish animals wearing party hats in a conga line.  The inside of the card said, "This calls for a happy dance!  Happy Birthday!  Cha-cha-cha!"

She wrote a personalized message which included this final line: "Maybe, if you're lucky, Ryan will do a little birthday cha-cha-cha or jig for you, just to show he cares!"

I laughed out loud when I read that final line.  Natalie was making reference to an infamous family story that a few of you out there probably already know.  It's the story of The Jig, and it's worth sharing here.

One night, many years ago, Ryan and I met on the front porch of my apartment to discuss our wedding plans.  It was late, and Ryan was tired, but I was brimming with excitement about all the latest developments for our big day.  He listened good naturedly as I blabbed about the band, the bridesmaid dresses, and most of all, the reception venue.

"Can you believe we are going to have our reception at the Trail Dust Steakhouse?"  I gushed.  "We are going to be partying it up in a giant barn!  All of the guests will have to do country jigs with the band!  Yee haw!" I shouted and did a little jig in front of him.  "Come on, Ryan!  Get up and do a jig with me!"

Ryan was smiling at my exuberance, but he declined my invitation.  "I can't do a jig right now, Rachel.  I am exhausted.  But you better believe I will jig with you on the night of our wedding."

"Come on!  Come do a jig with me!"  I insisted.

He was laughing as he shook his head in refusal, but suddenly I was not laughing.  In fact, I was no longer in such a good mood.  "Ryan, don't be such a party pooper.  Get up and do a jig with me!" I commanded, irrational panic and anger suddenly flooding over me.

Sensing my change in mood, and not wanting to be ordered around like a show pony, Ryan said, "Rachel, I'm not going to do a jig right now."

I was beside myself.  What did this mean?  Why wouldn't he do this little favor for me?  Was he going to be a good husband after all?  "Just do the stupid jig!!!!" I begged.

Ryan was now completely bewildered.  He looked at me with wide, stunned eyes and said, "I think we both need to go to bed."

At that, I started sobbing.  "If you won't do this little thing for me, how do I know you'll do all the big things in our marriage?"

Can we say Bridezilla???  I must've been stressed to the max!  Talk about overreaction!

I don't remember how the conversation ended.  I do remember walking upstairs with a red and puffy face, and all of my roommates flooding around me in concern.  "What happened??" they asked, probably thinking that my engagement was off.

"Ryan wouldn't do a jig for me," I said and told them the story through my tears.

At the end of my truly sad tale, they looked at each other and smiled in relief (phew--this was not cause to call off a wedding), and then they told me to go to bed because things would be better in the morning.

In the years since, a few of those friends have called me in a tizzy when they were planning their own weddings, wondering if they were indeed doing the right thing, wondering if some tiny "flaw" in their fiance was a deal breaker, and stressing over small wedding details that do not matter in the slightest in the long run.

I'll tell them, "Take a deep breath--everything is going to be okay.  Remember when I freaked out because Ryan wouldn't do a 'jig'?"  This always prompts a good laugh.

Six and a half years in, I am very glad to say that Ryan does indeed do "all the big things" for me in our marriage--and he'll even do a jig for me once in a while when he's in the right mood.

Doing a jig at our wedding