STILL IN DIAPERS

I push the heavy door and enter in. This is my Monday place. The doors of the dance room are shut. I join the minority of people who are watching the lesson behind the large window. It's packed inside. Just by looking at the people it's hard to understand what they are actually practicing. Bumping couples, frustrated leaders, suffering followers... pulling, pushing, kicking... It looks...well...pathetic but somehow amusing to us, the ones at the window. Suddenly the door opens and someone throws himself out for dear life. I feel the humid, sweaty, warm carbon dioxide of frustration on my face.
"We need some air in here" he whispers, moving his lips like a fish out of water. "I think we are slowly dying."
I take a look at the pitiful scene inside one more time. "If they had more oxygen, probably would function better." I think.
In about five minutes both doors open wide and people pour out, desperate for water, air and food... three basic elements for vita. This is the mingling time before tango. I change my shoes, get a glass of wine and say hi to some friends. After scanning the room quickly I right away know how my night is going to be. Yes, it sure is crowded tonight but it is the wrong crowd for me. There are only three people I like to dance with. My partner, and two other advanced dancers. Hoping to dance with them I keep mingling. Then I see someone approaching towards me with a big grin on his face. I remember meeting him about five months ago when he was a complete beginner. I remember our dance very well too... but, not because of its beauty. He says he was in Buenos Aries for the last four months and danced tango almost everyday and took bunch of privates and attended workshops and all that. After talking about his experiences over there for almost two tandas, he invites me to dance. Curious about his progress I say yes. He holds me in close embrace and we begin to walk. Our first dance is pretty much about walking. Don't get me wrong it's a good walk. Almost defending himself he tells me in Buenos Aries people dance much simpler, and if anyone does even a little boleo they say it's too pompous.
"Well..." I say jokingly, "... I wouldn't mind a little pomposity."
Me and my big mouth!
Our second dance begins with a nice walk again. Then he whispers in my ear, "Watch this!"
Hey!!!... He makes me do an ocho cortado! "That was nice" I say... "Hope it wasn't too showy."
"No no no" he answers, "This is acceptable in Buenos Aries." ... I smile.
After four or five more ocho cortados music ends. We stop almost at the beat. Our third dance is filled with ocho cortados. Every other step he makes me do one. I can't ignore them... I can't escape them... The room begins to feel warm again. I begin to feel the same humid, sweaty, warm carbon dioxide of frustration in my lungs this time. Finally the music ends... hopefully the tanda ends. He tells me there's a very good connection between us that he had never experienced before.
"We need some air here" I tell him. Now, I am the fish out of water. With great enthusiasm, I ask him if he wants to dance with someone else.
"Hell no" he answers and clutches me with the first note of the milonga. Darn it! No way to escape, I am trapped. I have no freedom but ocho cortados. I truly begin to hate ocho cortados by now... At the end of the milonga I tell him I would like to stop.
Holding my hands he asks, "but why, we have a very good connection?"
"Yes indeed we do. We connect very good in ocho cortados. But I've gotta go. I've gotta go now." my inner voice yells.
"In tango..." he says, "... I'm still crawling, still a baby in diapers, ya know...."
This is the the time to flee... escape... right now, for thy life!
I give him a hug and thank him for the pleasurable dance, and say "I am potty trained... ya know..."

MAY BE IT WAS THE PANTS

One of the most frustrating things in tango for women is not being noticed by the leaders... and for men... it is being rejected by the followers. When we -me and two other ladies- were discussing this couple of months ago, I never thought I would need their valuable tips one day.
"Walking across the room every so often really helps, you get more noticed" she said with an assured expression on her face. "And you shouldn't stand by the table and do keep your hands off the food, that really makes you look pathetic"... "Body language is also very important..." the other one added. "...You should never cross your arms over your chest. That says "I'm reserved, don't touch me"... They should hang naturally with your palms slightly turned outwards... And of course put a smile on your face and don't forget the eye contact." Pointing at my pants, "by the way... if you wear a skirt you will double your chances" the first one commented, while the other one nodding with content.

Today is one of those days... My pure God-given existence is not working today. I am invisible. It is almost the seventh tanda and here I am standing on my usual corner with my arms naturally hanging, my palms slightly turned outwards... the corners of my lips are already twitching and the stupid smile which I have been trying to keep glued on my face is about to turn into a hysteric cry any minute.... and my eyes are still trying to do some contact but with their new slitted shape they are now hating every other leader in the room. I haven't touched the food yet, I am hungry, but hey... I don't look pathetic!!! When I attempt to do my tenth little walk across the room to get more noticed, a woman sitting at a table right beside me bursted into laughter. "You just can't stay still, can you? How many more tours are you gonna take around?" Pointing at the fan on the other side of the room, "I am hot" I hissed. "Yeah... dancing" she said with a faint smile on her face... I haven't had one dance yet but, oh yeah, I sure was hot..... "hot" is not the word. I was fuming with frustration and this woman wasn't making it any easier. Biting my tongue, I slowly walked towards the fan to make my point... After wasting couple of good milongas I decided I should leave the fan alone and go home. Just as I made my move one of the beginner leaders approached me. "One day..." he said, "... one day I'll dance with you." Being sooo frustrated, I asked "why not now?" Shaking his head to both sides he said, "No, I am not ready to dance with you yet. Plus you are very picky, you wouldn't dance with me." He was right, he was a beginner, and yes lately I was getting very picky about whom I was going to dance. But today... at this moment, at this split second I was not picky. NOT AT ALL!!! I, at least, had to prove myself that all the tricks I played were not worthless. Before he had a chance to leave me there all alone I grabbed his arm and with a sympathetic look in my eyes I told him, "I'll dance with you!" "Really?" he said, "Do you really want to give it a try?." I wanted to shake him... jolt his head... scream into his ears until the drums pop, "Dance with me damn it. DANCE WITH ME!". But instead I smiled and said, "Yes, let's give it a try"...

Tango world is a strange world. It is the world of emotions, world of fantasies, world of love. It is heaven, it is hell... It is a second life where people strip off their shells and become more of themselves... more competitive, more aggressive, more jealous, more fragile, more attractive, more ruthless... And I love it. Even if that means once in a blue moon, I have to stand on the corner all night long without even one dance...
Oh well... who knows... may be it was the pants. I'll wear a skirt next time.