I'm pretty sure you haven't heard this one before. But I'm also pretty sure everybody says that.

Last June, my husband confessed to me that he'd been taking ballroom dance classes -- by himself -- for almost a year and a half. Maybe "confessed" isn't the right word because on some level he seemed really pleased with himself about the whole thing. I asked him why he didn't ask me to take the classes with him, and he said, "I knew you wouldn't be interested. You never want to dance with me at weddings." (We've been to about five weddings in the nearly 20 years we've been together.) I reminded him that I'd actually suggested dance classes to him a few years ago, but he selectively didn't remember that. (It was a fairly long and involved conversation about what time the classes started and what nights they were on and if we could make it work.)

I really felt as if I'd been punched in the face. I felt completely betrayed, and I pretty much got hysterical. I asked him to stop taking the classes and to go somewhere else to take classes with me, and he refused, saying he'd made "a lot of progress" where he was. What kind of "progress" is what is disturbing me.

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