Tango Landmines

               Sometimes I feel like Odysseus sailing past the sirens, cotton stuffed in my ears. That is what it is like to dance with a beautiful woman moving seductively within my embrace. To get to this point, I had to make a compromise with myself. I had to tell myself I was never going to have sex with any of the women I danced with in order to turn off the broadcast constantly being transmitted by my sex drive. It is impossible to learn how to tango while listening to a voice continually telling me to ‘go for it’.

               To lead, a man must be able to hear the music, evaluate his partner’s ability, plan movements for a crowded floor and execute the plan. This would be difficult if we were doing it with a scent-free manikin at room temperature; it is nearly impossible to do it with a hot-blooded, scented member of the opposite sex genetically designed to trigger all sorts of autonomic responses.

               In order to acquire the skills necessary to perform, I had to make a commitment, much like a vow of celibacy. Life would be too easy if that was all I needed to do to become proficient. If I put the wolf in a cage the women became lifeless, like they, too, were dancing with a manikin. This is the paradox some tangueros have to confront, it is like letting little kids play with a tiger and hoping it doesn’t eat them. The wolf has to be free to roam in order to inspire passion in my partners.

               I get jealous sometimes of women with whom I have dance relationships. I saw one yesterday, dancing with a man, enjoying herself. Should I tell her? No, that is a line not to be crossed. It could endanger her relationship. She, also, may be riding on the edge of the harpy that lies within, waiting to consume me. I think of the consequences and resolve to keep my thoughts to myself. They are just whims and petty feelings.

               I desperately wanted to be in a relationship when I first began to dance. After a failed tango romance and my layoff, I now feel lost. I sense the opportunities to make a pass but I let them expire, afraid of the consequences. It would not be right to force a woman to tip-toe around the exposed nerves lying all around my life.



Note: For an in-depth look into the mind of the Kayak Hombre, read his book, available on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/River-Tango-perri-iezzoni/dp/1453865527/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1369366756&sr=1-1&keywords=River+tango