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This is the way the Kittycats would have done it.
All they cared about was skating.
They ran from each other for four years. Then they hooked up to form one of the most powerful skating teams the world has ever known. They were in love with each other from the first. You could tell it. He insisted on treating it as a mere romance. She insisted on treating it as nothing.
Until they day they clicked.
I still remember it. I was standing right there. He was wearing a pink Polo shirt. She was in an old-fashioned asymmetric lace thing she had belted twice around herself and thrown a pair of jeans under. The essence of masculinity. The essence of femininity.
The first thing he did was grab her for a lift. She screamed. He tried again. She ran around the room. He caught her and tried again. Finally she was over his head. The whole room burst into applause. Half of them weren't even skating fans.
Does that tell you what the Kittycats were like?
They couldn't help drawing attention. You loved them. You hated them. You had to feel something. They made you. They had both been dedicated to the ice for life. Those edges were how they communicated with the world.
Even on a tile floor, with him wearing those preppy tie-shoes and her in a pair of Adidas, never having seen each other before, they made something happen. Body motion. Artistry. Eyes.
They made it happen.
You can't romanticize some things. You can only tell the truth.
Romance weakens love. Truth empowers it.
I saw that first vulnerable look in two pairs of eyes. I have no need to see Titanic. I do not put down those who do. It's just not for me.
Love empowers life.
Don't give me a story. I want to see the real thing.
People have lives. They interact with each other.
Show me the real story.
Everything else on ice is a fluffball waste of time.
We live to see others. How they live. How they work.
So we can go do it for ourselves. Our own way.
Not someone else's way. Our own.
Nancy Kerrigan can't skate it for me. And I wish she'd quit trying.
Maybe that's why the Kittycats held out, turned up their pink little noses, and wouldn't go to Sarajevo. They didn't want to be trapped in someone else's story.
"Trapped in someone else's story." I can hear her saying it.
We all skate our own stories. On and off the ice. Grow up and do it yourself.