Once upon a time a handsome guy asked a young woman to dance with him. She was delighted to accept his invitation onto the dance-floor and didn’t protest as he encircled his strong arms around her. This was in the days of “the slow dance,” something I believe doesn’t happen any more. Such a pity, there’s nothing quite like dancing with a guy you are attracted to, feeling his arms around you and the sensuous movement between you as you move in unison to an amazing love song.
And so it was between this young couple – he held her close and she happily rested her hands on the top of his muscled shoulders. She glanced up into his charcoal eyes and was thrilled to see them sparkling with mischief and amusement – this guy was looking interesting. A lazy smile played about his lips. She told him her name and asked him his. “I already know your name,” he replied “and I think I’ll let you guess mine.” Somewhat taken aback she asked him if he could give her a clue. “Of course,” he laughingly replied, “you already know my name. You know me. You just have to remember me.” Taken by surprise, she stopped moving, stepped back and looked at him. There was absolutely nothing familiar about him. Nothing. She reasoned that he must have her mixed up with someone else but he’d known her name. She looked away for a second, dipping her head in mild embarrassment, searching her internal database but came up with zilch. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, “but I don’t think we’ve met before.” He pulled her to him and resumed the slow, sensual rhythm of the dance. “Oh we’ve met alright, we used to meet every day,” he sighed into her ear and there was something in that sigh, something wistful. She remained silent, not knowing what to say. Her memory was razor-sharp, she never forgot a face or a name and here was this guy dancing with her, insisting he knew her. “No, no way,” she thought to herself, “this guys just screwing with me.” She looked up into his eyes, eyes that were laughing at her and her temper sparked. “You wanna be a little more specific?” she challenged him. He laughed and if she wasn’t mistaken her show of temper delighted him. “Now, now there’s no need to get annoyed,” he smiled as he pulled her closer again. “I love this song, just dance with me and I promise if you haven’t figured out who I am by the end of it, I’ll tell you.” He pulled her closer than before and the feel of his hard muscular body against her own proved distracting to the point that by the end of the song she still had no idea who he was. He stopped dancing. She looked up into his eyes and her expression said it all, “okay Mr. Mysterious, spill it.” He smiled and moving his lips to her ear, whispered his name. Her mouth fell open in shock. She stepped back. Speechless. He laughed. “No way!” she exclaimed, her jaw falling to the floor again. “Yes way,” he chuckled as he placed his fingers under her chin, closed her mouth and stole a kiss. “It’s been good to finally dance with you.” Then, giving her one last smile, he turned and walked away.
I still remember standing there all those years ago watching the guy who had been the nobody boy back in school walking away across the dance-floor. His transformation was nothing short of epic and only for I had seen him with my own eyes and felt him with my own hands, I would never have believed it. And that, my friends, is how the inspiration for Remember Me was born.