>Our Song

>Every couple has a special song, one that defines their relationship and, when played, generally leads to googly eyes, hand holding and hot sex.

The lyrics are what make these songs meaningful.

When a man loves a woman, spend his last dime trying to hold on to what he needs…

So here I am with open arms, hoping you’ll see what your love means to me, open arms…

It’s gettin’ hot in here so take off all your clothes. I am gettin so hot I’m gonna take my clothes off…

Oops, sorry. That last one is already taken. By me.

Yes, Hot in Herre is most definitely Our Song. Let me explain.

A few years ago, before the baby was born and on a Saturday night when the girls were with their mom, Hubs and I decided to go to a cheesy nightclub and dance the night away. We arrived at about 11 and spent the first half-hour watching all the early-20-somethings on the dance floor make asses of themselves get their groove on.

After we’d had too many a few drinks, we decided we were ready to take the floor ourselves. I insisted we climb up on a small stage so that everyone could see what fools great dancers we were.

At that moment, what would become Our Song started playing. I’ll never forget the sentimental lyrics that perfectly described our relationship.

Mix a little bit of ah, ah
with a little bit of ah, ah.
Give a little bit of ah, ah
and a sprinkling of ah, ah.

It really was getting hot in there. Sweat trickled down Hubs’s face as he worked the stage, perfecting a move that could only be called Drunkenly Spankin Da Baby During an Earthquake. The crowd below seemed to be taking notice. I figured it was only a matter of time before they’d be copying the move, much like the famous scene from Teen Wolf. Filled with pride, I looked into Hubs’s bloodshot eyes and remembered why I married him.

We danced that way until two a.m. before exhaustedly stepping down from the stage. On our way toward the exit, a young guy stopped Hubs, concern in his eyes.

“Dude, what are you doing here?” he asked worriedly. “This place is like, for losers.”

Hubs shrugged and gave him a wicked smile before we headed out the door. Unbelievably, the guy hadn’t figured out that we were the losers, and we certainly weren’t going to clue him in.

Two years and one baby later, going dancing until 2 am is an almost-impossible feat. But I can still sing, “It’s gettin hot in here!” and make Hubs laugh. If I’m lucky, he’ll even reenact Drunkenly Spanking da Baby During an Earthquake. It is, after all, Our Song. And um, Our Dance Move.

So on that note, Happy Anniversary, Hubs.

And Happy Fourth of July to my fellow ‘Merickens out there.