Tangoing

You already know that I’m a tango fan and, though I’m far from calling myself a tango dancer, I’m doing my best to be called so one day. I decided to tell you a story about how it happened that I am where I am now, i.e. how come that I, despite my age, started to dance tango. The purpose behind it is twofold. First of all, running a blog makes me an exhibitionist and tango has become a part I want to reveal. Secondly, maybe after reading this some of you will decide to give it a try.

The story begins with unrequited love… I don’t cope well with feelings and when I’m overwhelmed by them I either don’t do anything or I throw myself into work. Since being in love is a rather long-term state, and for me this was a really miserable time, it was difficult to do nothing for half a year or so. The only option I had then was the second one – workaholism. I took on more classes, more students, I started to cook like crazy, usually preparing some very time consuming, gourmet food, just to turn the feelings off for a while. The flat was maintained in a high state of cleanliness and I never rested. Finally, I got tired. Took me six months to get tired. Tired of doing stuff, tired of the thought that nothing I was doing would change the state of things, that is the “unrequitedness”. Then came a moment when I finally woke up from my workaholic haze and decided to take control over my life and change something, to bring its taste back, and I did what I’d always dreamt about – I went to a milonga.

The idea of learning to dance tango had been there for such a long time that I don’t even remember where it came from. In that aspect I have to agree with the ones who say that you don’t choose tango but tango chooses you and it’s not an easy relationship, the kind where you take to doing something and it gives you satisfaction. No. It’s not like that.

My not being the most open person in the world, that milonga was a challenging experience for me, but later on turned out to be fruitful. I met my future teacher there. The only thing I needed to do was to find myself a dancing partner and I thought: “Ok, you finally did it, you went there, so you can as well take one step further and look for a partner on the internet”. And so I did. Two months later it didn’t turn out to be such a good idea because he wanted something more and I wasn’t interested. The next one got ill with hernia or something like that but he came tipsy to the classes anyway and, well, let’s just say that it wasn’t in accordance with my control issues. The third guy was nice and danced well but he was a hen-pecked husband and generally wasn’t allowed to go to tango classes or milongas. The fourth one, and my last, was a professor from Norway, a guy in his forties, shorter than me, the features which eventually turned out to be disadvantageous. The problem with me (not with them) is that I never know what their objective is and if there is a ghost of a chance that they want to date me or have their way with me, I instantly go into reverse. I just want to learn tango and it is surprising for me that they don’t seem to get it, that sooner or later most of them want something more. I always thought it’s women who get emotional when working, not to mention dancing in pairs. Well, I don’t. The problem with tango, on the other hand, is that there are not enough guys who want to learn, so the women have to make do with those who do.

Despite the fact that I’m not very talented when it comes to expressing music with my body (I can hear the rhythm and I can repeat the melody but I can’t externalise it), despite the fact that all my dancing partners were failures in one way or another and despite the fact that the tango circle is really hermetic, due to which I’ve had many crises, I am grateful for one thing. I am grateful for the people I’ve met thanks to tango – if they read it one day, they’ll know it’s about them.

There are days when my little tango adventure really gets me down and when I have a feeling similar to the one when something you love doesn’t love you back. Imagine that you feel repulsed by your dancing partner and yet he is one of the few people who want to dance with you, because if you are a beginner there ARE few guys who want to dance with you, and you do want to dance. A perfect, vicious, sadomasochistic circle. Then, there is the economic aspect, of course. Tango, apart from being a wonderful experience, is also a business, which you can see that all the time. You pay for the classes, for milongas and workshops. During the classes you do learn the basics, different combinations of steps and so on but it’s the milongas that carry the most educational value, as they let you dance with different people extending your knowledge to the choreographies they use. However, if you are a beginner, no-one dances with you, so you don’t develop, so you should also go to workshops which usually are (contrary to a functioning fridge) an extravagant expense. Another vicious circle. Those who share the journey through tango as a couple probably have it easier.

That’s all about the possible obstacles. Why do I go on? Probably because being in conflict with myself gives me the feeling of fulfilment, the feeling that something is happening and that I’m alive. I don’t think I have ever done something more difficult and conflicting than tango. I’m a control freak and yet in tango I have to be dependent on another person, a man, who invites a woman to dance with him and then is supposed to dance both of them safely through the music and the dance floor full of people. I’m independent and self-reliant and here I have to take support from a partner and listen to the signs he gives me, to work in a tandem. I still have my streaks of independence and believe me, I use it when I know he isn’t decisive enough, but now I don’t mind being treated as “the little woman” as long as I’m respected as a woman. My feminism and liberal point of view died or at least were subdued and I don’t mind it. Just as now I can’t imagine myself wearing trousers only or only flat shoes. Just in case someone thought I might have been: I don’t feel brainwashed either. Now I feel more like all the puzzles in the jigsaw were finally on their right places. It all fits. Maybe I have become more conservative about certain things but I don’t care about the people who are going to criticise it.

All that aside, what can be better than meeting someone, dancing the music and the magic (if you’re lucky) with him for 6 or 7 minutes and then walking away, no remorse, no hurt feelings, no other knowledge of him except for the way he dances. When you have this nothing else matters and when you felt it even once, this feeling will be your beacon of hope that maybe one day you’ll feel it again, this sense of unity when you are yourself but also your partner, the music and floor on which you take your steps of cautious decisiveness.