In previous posts yesterday and this morning, I wrote about what belly dancing has meant for Maria. But I wanted to write something this morning about what belly dancing has meant to me and our relationship.

When I met Maria, I felt the greatest obstacle to our relationship at the time was trust. Maria didn’t trust or like many men, and neither did her loyal dog Frieda, who tried to eat me for the longest time.

And I could see she was afraid to trust me. She had good reason to distrust men. Her mistrust of them had yet to be proven wrong, and she wanted time and space to see if she could live on her own and make her art.

She wasn’t sure she could.

I knew I had to get Frieda to accept me before Maria could, and this opened up my eyes to the need for supporting women, rather than controlling or manipulating them or dominating them.

Then, this was a matter of self-interest, even selfishness. My motives were self-serving, not noble.

In my previous relationships, I certainly wasn’t dominant or controlling, but I was very disturbed and gave people many reasons to mistrust me. I wanted to change that.

And although this is a process that is never completely over, I have changed. Maria’s trust in me affirms that.

My role in my marriage, or any close relationship, was to support and encourage, not to intrude or dominate or criticize.

I well understand that many men would be wary of their spouses for developing passionate interests outside of the marriage. Or for being away a lot at classes or rehearsals.

I’ve always believed feminism is good for men as well as women. Just as a happy and fulfilled mother is a good mother, a happy and engaged and fulfilled partner is a good partner.

When Maria is happy, I’m happy to, and vice versa. When she is frustrated or discouraged, she is not happy, and neither can a loving partner be satisfied. Happy people don’t argue pointlessly or regret their lives.

I resolved not to be one of those men who get in the way of their live’s friends and interests. I know many women who have been stymied or undermined by the men in their lives, especially when they wish to pursue their dreams or creative impulses. Or even independent friendships.

Maria meets every week with two women she trusts and loves; I have never been invited to attend and have no wish to go. She mustn’t feel any kind of guilt or disapproval that this takes her away from me every week, as does the belly dancing.

At first, she used to worry about this, and I had to insist she needn’t. When she goes out every week for lunches or excursions with friends or belly dancing classes, I have a good time, reading a good book, blogging, dogs at my feet, or just sitting and thinking. I love the good feeling of knowing she is happy, and I love the peace and solitude as well.

Happy and fulfilled people don’t argue much or get resentful of their partners.

My wish is that Maria should never feel that anything she does for herself takes anything from me; quite the opposite, it deepens and enriches our marriage.

Every woman I’ve ever taught in a writing class shared this problem with me.  Some men – a father, husband, brother, or boyfriend – told them they were wasting their time pursuing a writing career. It was hopeless; they so often said. Get a safe day job.

Few of these women dared to follow their bliss. They were condemned to substitute lives.

At first, this idea of trust was a strategy for me. I have suffered from mental illness and was rarely available to nourish or support a partner.  I worked very hard and for a long time to earn trust, rather than demand it.

Eventually, support became something natural, something I didn’t have to work to do, something that came naturally. I support Maria, and she helps me.

Maria and I are close and cherish our time together. We are always free to venture beyond and have our friends, go to our concerts, dance with whoever we wish.

This kind of fulfillment is to be encouraged at all times, never smothered or discouraged.

From the first, I supported Maria’s interest in belly dancing. I never went to a class or was invited to one.

Neither did I ever complain about being left for an evening, or about not attending the class, held weekly.

I offered my services as a photographer but otherwise, keep my distance. The dancers need to be with each other before performances talk privately about their nerves or worries. I have no role to play beyond my pictures and my encouragement.

So belly dancing has taught me a lot about trust, and a lot about support. The belly dancer is not seeking the approval of a man in any way. She is not looking to arouse or please him.

The dancer is putting it out there, drawing from her new community, showing her love of her body, and her strength and identity.

The dancers might be surprised to know they helped make an excellent relationship even better. But then, I doubt they would be surprised.