Last night was a big dance night--hundreds and hundreds of people showed-- because choreographers were just in town teaching their new dances. Eleven years of dancing with the same crowd means I see new marriages, babies, and careers. A lot of foward movement, which was one reason I ended up feeling not so hot. Once again, I'm planning my next trip alone. That photo was taken almost two years ago with my girlfriend of loving husband and six kids. When I got home, my phone rang. It was the male version of me with his own issues, saying dancing made him feel blue. He saw men at dance whose careers and incomes had surpassed his own. So we had company with one another in the comparison game. I don't think it was so much comparison as seeing something we'd like reflected in someone else. An older friend of mine (she's 80) tells me you never know what goes on behind closed doors. But I've been part of a happy couple before, and I think I do know what goes on behind closed doors. I also know what goes on when you're in love with your dance partner. Some of those women at dance with loving husbands, dance partners, and kids, I recall the day when they had none of the above. And each declared in their own way that they were going out to get the man, the kids, and their needs met. And then they showed up one day with a husband, and babies in the stroller, and a smile of satisfaction. I saw five such women last night. And I wondered about my personal goals, and what I'm capable of; a loving husband of my own, too, and a career as a novelist, continue with my blog and activism, and career in PR until I can make a living through writing and speaking. I've got to get back to comedy. The novel I wrote and my agent didn't sell, Chasing Normal, was a comedy. So was my stage play that won an honorable mention in a national comedy playwriting competition. In a world with serious issues, laughing is the best. Selling. Would it hurt?