A Little Machismo Goes A Long Way

               One of the most difficult things leaders have to learn is how to put some machismo into the tango connection. The tiniest amount will do but exuding it without offense is not easy. It is the most important spice in the stew; without it there are no women and without women there is no tango.

                 I do not bring machismo to every tango embrace I enter. It happens naturally and it cannot be faked. There is no substitute for it and it must be made with original ingredients. The hardest part for me was to allow myself to let it show and risk offending my partner. Taking a risk, I learned, is part of the spice’s appeal.
                Machismo is the expression of a person’s inner warrior and it is not solely manufactured by men. It is the fighter inside of us that the follower finds so alluring. 

                I think some ladies have questions inside, subliminal and primal in nature, which they have asked so often since adolescence that they don’t realize they are asking them yet immediately recognize the ‘answer’ once it appears in the form of machismo: Does he hunger for me? What will he do to satisfy his need for me?

               Tango is an attempt at spontaneous movement with a partner but it can be about much more than that; it can be poetry in motion; a physical, spiritual and mental union that occurs because of an unbridled communication between the leader and follower that leaves both participants fulfilled. A question that has been years in the making has found the answer which it sought and, like a child, it can be asked, again and again and again.

The Tango Doctor: chapter one, page one

           Like the women I’d met dancing the tango, I came to it wounded and in it I found healing and redemption. The road to the cure, however, was a winding, unmarked highway with no speed limits through forbidden territory in the dark of night. That highway had brought me here, parked in the driveway of another man’s home, alone with his wife in my van, a situation that was setting off alarm bells and warning lights in my mind.

Ruth’s hand was halfway to the door handle when the laser light pierced the darkness. A small red dot shone like a poisoned jewel on the married woman's forehead. The spot of light jittered on her skin like a tiny monster invading the shadows of my ride.  

            I should have pushed her out, hit the gas and given up on this foolish quest forever…but I didn’t. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. I couldn’t tell if this was caused by the incredibly thick air of sensuality surrounding us or the thought of a possible confrontation with her spouse.

            So far, no sins had been committed though I sensed that we were on the verge. Innocent as we both were, I’m certain we looked guilty as hell. We suffered from an affection deficit disorder and the remedy, a delicate berry protected by a very thorny bush, was near. But it was not for me to pick; it was for her. She needed to decide if she would reach for it, or for me, or do nothing and continue her life of suffering. I feared she would choose the path of pain; it was a monkey on her back but it was a familiar one that she could bear because she could not yet imagine a life without it.

            Getting mixed up with me would only have added to her burden and I would have rebuffed her even if she did succumb to temptation. Two years into my love affair with tango, I was well acquainted with sexual tension and I knew it was my responsibility to be the one who could say, “No.”

            It was 1 a.m. Her split level house was located in a well-kept subdivision of a small college town. I cut the lights and everything was quiet except for the smooth hum of the engine.  Somehow I knew this was not a real threat and resisted the notion to grab her and throw her to the floor like James Bond would have done in the movies.     

            Instead, I asked, struggling to sound cool, calm and collected, “Ruth, do you know there’s a red light shining onto your forehead?”

            “Yes,” she replied with a weary resignation, “it’s my husband. I can see him in the window. He thinks he’s being funny.” She drew a breath and continued in a wistful, far-off voice, “You’re not really the man driving me to tango…he is.”

            Braving the thorns, she had reached in and picked the tiny but succulent fruit. She needed to put words to her reality instead of living in denial that there was a problem; there was definitely a problem. That’s why she was here with me, that’s why we had just driven sixty miles and back to find a place where tango was danced on a weeknight. The monkey was gone and she breathed a heavy sigh filled with relief and trepidation.

Hey, check out this book about witches and zombies that dance tango:

https://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Wiccans-Angelina-Jones-Zombie-ebook/dp/B01GAM5T70/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1464567011&sr=1-2&keywords=revelations+of+wiccans

I've been working on this book for a year and this is what I've gotten done so far. I like it but it's going to be a long wait for the rest. If you'd like to read more of me, check out my books available on Amazon and Kindle:

The Cosmic Tango Orchestra

                Some people find it hard to believe that we live in a universe where chaos is the natural order but it is true. The universe is expanding at an ever-increasing rate, something we call entropy, and one day it’s all going to come apart at the seams.

               The world is a confusing place and there are many things we’d like to believe are true that probably aren’t, like people are not inherently good or that men and women can never be just friends. The child in us wants to believe these things but that child also believes in the Easter Bunny.

               This is not a reason for despair. Through restraint of our primal inclinations we discover real pleasure and true love. Men and women are capable of platonic relationships as long as one of them ignores the urge to merge. Unrequited love can be the saddest of stories or the noblest. Admitting to ourselves that we are part of the general cacophony increases the impact of our actions: our sins become that much more evil but our kindnesses shine as bright as stars.    

               Realizing that peace is not the absence of agitation but, rather, the organization of entropy as it proceeds towards its inevitable conclusion, gives us a purpose: we are here to establish rhythm and harmony among the hectic forces playing in the cosmic orchestra.

               Here is the final truth I’d like to impart: you are never going to be a great tango dancer. Tango is not a performance to be graded; it is a state of mind, body and synchronicity to be achieved with your partner.  Dancing tango is beautiful to watch but what is really happening is only revealed to the participants. This is not a spectator sport. It is art for artists and, until you get out on the dance floor, you are never going to know what it is.

                

For more writings by the Kayak Hombre, check out my books available on Amazon and Kindle:

Tango Think

                Once upon a time I asked a woman how she thought. I told her that I pictured words and sentences in my mind. She replied that she thought in spaces. This sounds strange but it made sense to me; she is an artist and is constantly talking about how light falls on an object or what her perspective should be.

               A big problem for me in learning how to tango was thought management during the dance. I was an absolutely formless piece of clay when I started dancing. Two years of ballroom instruction helped introduce me to the difficulties of being a leader but I was still a long way from performing that role as a tango dancer. I found the tango connection emotionally overwhelming and completely different from the sterile embrace of the ballroom routines.

               Nine years later I notice that my thinking has evolved into something I call tango-think. It used to happen only during the tango embrace but lately it has been creeping into my non-tango life, specifically at work. This week, during what should have been an intensely stressful situation, a guitarist’s rendition of the song Vieni Sul Mar began playing in my head and I felt incredibly peaceful during the entire episode.

               A great frustration of the artist Jackson Pollock was the elimination of the interference between his idea and the canvas. To dance tango leaders and followers must do the same thing: remove the barriers between the melody and the movement. When I am on the dance floor music comes into my ears and is automatically translated into choreography and navigation. It is automatic dancing and I bet Pollock would have benefitted greatly if he’d acquired a vice for tango instead of one of his other addictions.

               Tango-think is a state of mind that resembles meditation except for the fact that you are moving through a crowded room with a partner. Do you see my point? It is like meditation except that it is not. Tango-think is a paradox. I feel compelled to describe tango-think more clearly but I am going to resist that temptation. This is something you must figure out on your own. Make it your frustration. 

              Good luck with this task, young padawan, and tango on.

Sincerely, 

the Kayak Hombre

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All Good Things Come To Those Who Wait

               This post is dedicated to all you ladies out there who leave the milonga early. If this is you, then you are probably wondering what goes on when you are gone. Read on and you will know.

               There is a woman out there who is counting on your absence. I see her at most crowded milongas, the Patient Tanguera. She is almost always alone and seemingly unaffected by the amount of time she is spending idle but it is not wasted time. Watching and waiting, she tunes in to the collective emotions of the crowd like an actor standing behind the curtain before it rises.   

               The habits of men are her familiar friends: we like variety and rarely feed on the same flower for the entire night.  She is intuitive about forthcoming cabeceos. Her deportment seems too calm to me, like the eyes of a crocodile protruding the calm surface of the water. I have to wonder if she has an extra sensory gland that is capable of making innate subconscious calculations on who will ask her to dance. Her demeanor is a testament to her predation skills. My mind races for an explanation for she is an enigma; I imagine she is a seduction addict who can ‘smell’ the imbalance in a man’s opiate receptor levels.

               Patience pays off seemingly on cue. The clock strikes eleven and all the Cinderellas rush to get home before their Cadillacs turn into pumpkins and the crows stand beside their eyes. A wave of pheromones blows through the room and suddenly she is sitting in the spotlight.

               For the next hour or so she experiences a series of high-quality tango encounters with mostly skilled leaders. Satiated, she dons her shoes and disappears in the middle of a tanda. She has answered her hunger but it came with a heavy price; there will be hell to pay at work the next day, a day that has probably already begun before she even walks out the door.

For more writings from the Kayak Hombre, check out my books available on Amazon and Kindle:

                                                                                                              

REJECTION

               Rejection is tough to handle, even for me, a man who has been dancing tango for nine years. Men are big babies and I’m no exception. I’d like to offer my thoughts on this as it is a topic of constant concern to both men and women.  

               Once upon a time I shared several enjoyable tandas with a delightful woman. I noticed she’d been sitting for too long when milonga-style music began to play. I invited her to the floor but was rebuffed. She said she never danced milonga-style for some reason that I can’t remember; it doesn’t matter because all I heard was, “no.”

               I haven’t danced with her since.

               On another occasion she approached me to let me know that her refusal was only to milonga-style dances, not vals or tango. I told her politely that I understood but that was a lie. I did not understand and for some reason I lost my desire to dance with her. I’m not sure why this is. When I think about asking her to dance, I feel as if there is a big cliff that I have to climb in order to make the offer and I walk away from it.

               I get rejected a lot and I’ve developed a mechanism for dealing with it. I’m fairly certain I am not the only man doing this. What I do helps suppress the emotional volcano that erupts when we are snubbed by prospective partners. All our lives we learn how to handle slights from our own gender but it is somehow different when the opposite sex delivers the blow. It doesn’t matter if the refusal is a discreet cabeceo or an outright verbal response, a tanguero has to take it like a man, remain calm and be congenial.

               When this happens, I simply tell myself that there is no chemistry there and that I must avoid making the same mistake again. I tried and, for whatever reason, she declined. I recall past encounters when I pushed an offer for absolute clarification and remember that the outcome was never good. Usually the woman reconsidered and subjected herself to a tanda with me but it felt like I was dancing with a corpse.

               After nearly a decade of rejections, I’ve come to accept that 'no' may mean 'no' forever even though she may not be of the same mind. When I see a woman who has turned me down, the thought that pops into my head is “don’t ask her to dance” instead of “maybe she's ready to dance with me now.” In my mind, she is shrouded in a cloud of fog I call anti-desire.

               The process involved in making a dance invitation begins with an incredible phenomenon. It is a tiny spark of desire that originates in a dimension with which we are not familiar so I can’t say what it is. This tiny ember is quite powerful, much like the gravitational force that keeps us close to planet Earth, or the nuclear force that binds protons to neutrons or the reproductive ability of DNA. It may be ethereal in nature, existing somewhere on the macroscopic level out there in the cosmos or at the molecular level as a quantum object. Maybe it’s a spiritual thing. Whatever it is, I can say with certainty that it is remarkable and wondrous. It is like a flower, delicate and powerful in its ability to attract, an integral part of creation. 

               Rejection is a power almost as subtle and equally supreme. It is a chemical with cosmic/quantum properties that inhibits the ignition factor responsible for the formation of a desire to dance with someone.

               A constant topic of conversations with tangueras is about who won’t dance with them and why that is so. Men are such a mystery to women but we are also a mystery to ourselves. Rejection is a necessary component of the tango experience. We have to know what it feels like to be cold to appreciate the heat. So it is with being refused, each time we are rebuffed increases the amount of pleasure we receive when we are finally accepted into the embrace of another dancer.

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The Best Milonga in the World

Located on Penn Ave in that section of Pittsburgh that strongly rivals New York City’s Greenwich Village, the RJW Law Office & Dance Emporium is an enigma that baffles those trying so hard to be baffling. A tango gathering takes place here called the Unblurred First Friday Habeas Corpus Milonga and I absolutely love it. The Big Apple and Philadelphia simply cannot compete with this event as it is in a class by itself, a spectacle to behold, a sight to be seen, one of the Seven Great Wonders of the Tango World, even more wondrous than tango at the Temple of the Living Goddess at Heart-Path ­­Retreat Center in Pojoaque, New Mexico.

Friday night here is one big party for several blocks. Loud music is blaring up and down the street, vendors and local artists are hawking their wares as young, drunken, tattooed adults with purple hair and pierced everything wander about like the spoiled Americans the whole world has read about, envies and imitates.

The facility is a small, street-front law office that has a desk and a few banquet chairs placed against the wall. There are documents lying around and pinned to the walls, the kind you are likely to find at a place where a lawyer works: titles to cars, legal forms, petitions, etc. The door is always open except when Rich comes upstairs and closes it. I’m not sure why he does this, it probably has something to do with the legality of the whole scene but it makes the tiny space full of dancing couples too hot to bear and the door opens again as soon as he departs.

Downstairs there is an old bicycle repair garage that has been converted into a larger dance area that opens up to the back alley. There is an anteroom at the bottom of the stairs where there are two couches so dancers can change into their shoes. There are also two tables filled with drinks and food. The food, I believe, is always some sort of homemade dish of Latino origin: tacos, empanadas, enchiladas, etc. and there is a jar if anyone feels like donating to the cause.

The tango upstairs is always traditional and of the highest caliber. People wander in from the avenue out of curiosity. Sometimes it is a couple who hear the music and see the dancing and are inspired to be romantic. They join the crowd, realize that they don’t know how to dance after a few awkward minutes and even more collisions and then make their way downstairs to sit on the couches. There are other stragglers, too, that join the gathering, uncertain what to make of the place and waiting in vain for someone to approach them with a sales pitch to buy something or to join the club. It is a sales pitch that never comes and that, I think, is what baffles people most about this milonga.

Downstairs there is almost always some Nuevo music playing and an odd mixture of talented dancers and total beginners.

There is a philosophy that keeps this place going. I can’t really say what that philosophy is except that everyone is welcome and that tango is danced here and that the definition of tango is open to interpretation and all interpretations are respected. I can say that this place is a refuge from the party outside, where overindulgence is expected as well as the auditory assault of the loud music and the hypocrisy of the revelers dressed in grunge clothing mass produced in China just for them.

I’m not a lawyer but I think habeas corpus means that we are here for you. If you are tired of the false premises of the party and would just like a chance to dance and heal your bones, maybe even heal your soul, the Unblurred First Friday Habeas Corpus Milonga is the place for you. Everybody is welcome here, always and without conditions.

For more on the Kayak Hombre, check out my books available on Amazon:

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Tango Is Not Sex

American culture has a problem with intimacy and I think it is a big impediment to our understanding of tango. It is my guess that the source of this difficulty stems from our Puritanical roots but it does not matter, only that we recognize that it should be a concern.

There is a tremendous release of stress during the sex act. I've detected a similar release of tension after some of my tango encounters. I think this same observation has been made by many who take up this dance and therein lies the confusion that tango and sex are kind of the same.

I have a machine that massages my feet. It is wonderful. I think that it too relieves stress but I do not in any way associate it with sex.

I am not going to say what I think leads to sex but I can say with certainty that tango and sex are not one and the same. If this is what you think then you need to get over it because it is an obstacle to your progress. This kind of thinking creates a false foundation on which to build your dance and it will not support you when you run into trouble, such as when you start a sexual relationship based upon satisfying tango encounters.

Let me tell you what I think tango is. It is two people attempting to translate a song into movement with spontaneous choreography. We accomplish this by connecting to our partner physically, mentally and emotionally. Maintaining balance as we unite so completely with a stranger is difficult. We become tango dancers when we attempt to educate ourselves on the finer points of stability and synergy. It is an education that never ends and it is a process that cannot begin until the student realizes that the bedroom is not at the end of the road.

For more publications by the Kayak Hombre, check out my books available on Amazon:

Tango Is A Man’s Guide to Women

               Recently I published my latest book A Beginner’s Guide to Women. The title alone is an audacious statement but it is what it has to be. America is in trouble. Our divorce rate is sky high and, if the headlines of today’s popular magazines are any indication, Americans seem to be unable to maintain satisfying, lasting relationships.

               I revealed my book at a party I recently attended. The reaction to the title was remarkably different for males and females. Women were shocked and said so while the men were expressionless. Upon reading a few snippets, the ladies all had something to say about the contents but the men remained chiseled and unresponsive.

               This event was a great help to me because it challenged me to defend what I had written. The beginning of all marketing campaigns for a writer is learning what to say when asked why someone should buy his/her book? My answer is that men need to stop trying to understand women and to start paying more attention to what they are saying with words as well as through body language.

               I have come to the conclusion that women are incredibly complex. I didn’t learn this in school or from a book, I learned this by dancing tango. 

               I have always been awkward around women. After three years of tango I was finally able to embrace a woman and feel certain she wasn't anxiously waiting for the song to end. Talking to other tangueros, I found that three year period was pretty much the norm. Five years is the accepted length of time for a man to finally be able to lead a tango dance successfully. 

               There's a reason for this. A woman needs to feel free while she’s dancing. She also needs to know that you will support her if she stumbles and that you are communicating effectively through your physical points of contact. Acquiring these skills takes a great deal of time and effort. Learning how to fly a plane takes considerably less time.

               Men tend to think of holding a woman the same way they think of holding a football: hold tightly and don’t let anyone rip it from your hands. Newsflash! WOMEN ARE NOT FOOTBALLS.  

               It is my opinion that men try too hard to understand women. Women are doing everything they can just to try and understand themselves; there’s no way that you, a man, is ever going to do that. Tango teaches us that understanding is not necessary, only that we listen to the music and try to move together in harmony.

               So many times have I witnessed a new tanguero writing down everything that is being said during a tango workshop instead of paying attention to every word the instructor is saying. He does this because life has taught him that success in school and at work comes from taking good notes. However, getting along with a woman is not work, nor is it a test: it is an absolute necessity.

               When I talked to the women at the party about my book. I told them that it instructs men to listen and to pay close attention to body language when dealing with a member of the opposite sex. Their responses spoke volumes though they uttered very few words. As soon as I said this, they immediately nodded their heads in approval and turned around to look for their men. This told me that what I was saying was something they felt was absolutely critical to the success of their relationship and that it had to be addressed immediately.

               Dancing tango has taught me not only to read my partner’s body language but to also be aware of the messages I am inadvertently sending through my own physical demeanor. First and foremost is personal hygiene. How you look and smell speaks volumes to a lady. Second, all facial expressions and audible tones are taken by your partner as either insults or compliments and to a higher degree than if you had actually used words to deliver the same message.

               These are all superficial things that you could easily learn from Ann Landers or Dear Abby. What I reveal in my book are the more complicated facets of a woman’s behavior, such as something called slut-shaming or her linear mental process or how much effort is really needed in order to be romantic.

               In today's high-tech, up-to-the-minute journalism, very little attention is being paid to these topics and I am doing something to rectify the situation. It is a risky stance for me to take but I feel it is a stand worth making. I’m certain I’ve made mistakes but that is okay because I know that life is like a tango where there are no mistakes, only attempts at spontaneous choreography to the rhythms of our society. I feel as if American culture is somehow off-balance and I am making an effort to correct that.

               My book is available on Amazon and on Kindle. If you care about this country you live in and the state of affairs in the relationships between men and women, I asked that you forward this post to a place where it can be read by others. Maybe it is a time for us all to take a stand for how we treat each other, to stop over-analyzing why people do things and to begin working for positive results instead of simply increasing the amount of information we’ve gathered. 

Here is a link to my book:

http://www.amazon.com/Beginners-Guide-Women-perri-iezzoni/dp/1512200212/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1431924910&sr=1-1&keywords=a+beginner%27s+guide+to+women 

The Tanguera and the Wolf

I saw the wolf last night at the milonga. He shows up every now and then, a man who doesn’t dance tango on the arm of a delightful tanguera. He’s there for her. He’s usually good looking and exudes machismo. He’s been a tall carpenter, a race car driver and a rock climber; whatever his profession, he wears it on his sleeve and it makes him appear very formidable; he’s got that something that women are attracted to; he's a leader of men, capable in a fight and he's got thick, strong thighs that can carry a heavy load.

His hunger was strong, I could tell because I know the feeling. There was something that he craved with a passion but he could not get it unless it was given to him. The object of his desire was sweet like honey but satisfying and sustaining like a tenderloin: a sweet meat.

Whatever it was, he was desperate for it; he was so fraught that he was willing to go to the milonga and sit there while his girlfriend danced with all the other men except him. This was painful but he knew he needed to endure it if he was going to be fed.

I know what you’re thinking: the thing he longed for is sex. Maybe you’re right but not necessarily. I can say with certainty that the thing he longed for was a woman’s to give. It might have been sex but it might also be the simple pleasure of her company when she is in a good mood. It could be food or any of a myriad of treats that only a woman can give to a man. It could be something as simple as a smile or as complex as tantric copulation. Like tango, this is not something he could do by himself. All he knows is that, until she gives it to him, he is incomplete and being unfinished is something that will drive him crazy. It is how men are.

He was on the verge of tears. That’s important to the tangueras who bring these men to the milonga. They feed on this hunger and it is not satisfying unless it is very real. It’s kind of like a compliment: it has to be an honest acknowledgement of an appealing personal trait; if it is real then it is flattering, if it is contrived then it is an insult. His state must be verified in order for it to satisfy her need.

I could see the agony in his eyes as she moved around the room in the arms of all the men who could dance tango. He was in pain but he was also drooling.

These tangueras are always on a journey of discovery. They are perfectionists. I have to wonder what they are thinking. Are they curious? Are they looking for answers to questions in their own lives, trying to heal a wound that can't be healed? Whatever they're thinking, I can say from watching them that they are good at continuing the play until they decide it is the appropriate time for the curtain to fall.

The performance does not end when the crowd is not there. The last scene is acted out in private. No one knows how it really ends except him and her. That’s how it has to be. This is real life. It is like tango where the outcome is never certain and the only thing that can be taken for granted is that the music has to end sooner or later.

           Why women do what they do is difficult for a man to understand but that should not be the goal. For an thorough discussion of this topic, check out my latest book on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Beginners-Guide-Women-perri-iezzoni/dp/1512200212/ref=sr_1_4?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1431805915&sr=1-4&keywords=a+beginner%27s+guide+to+women 

Putting the Romance into Tango Is Hard Work

               Any man worth a salt can tell you that putting romance into a relationship is hard work. A spaghetti dinner is just another meal until it is accompanied by a red and white checkered table cloth, lit candles and opulent displays of etiquette and chivalry. The presentation of a gift in any romantic endeavor is almost as important as the thought that goes into its selection and acquisition.

               I don’t think all tangueros are aware that this applies to tango as well.

               Romance is man’s work and it is a big part of the illusion in tango. The observer is clueless to the signals being conveyed by the leader to the follower. Learning how to communicate clearly through body language is an arduous task. Acquisition of this skill takes a lot of thought. How this expertise is presented is as important as what went into the educational process.

               Listening is how we gather the necessary information to achieve proficiency. Paying attention to the follower’s balance, mood and performance is imperative. The man leads the movement but he does so with respect to the aforementioned indicators. Stability is realized through practice. A woman’s disposition is influenced by her partner’s hygiene, expression and utterances. The maneuvers attempted should always be within the tanguera’s ability and should never make her appear awkward or unattractive.

               The most difficult part about romance is the fact that we are men: people who started off life as tiny wailing babies peeing all over creation without any control; we then became mischievous little boys who grew into oversized frames in a world full of expectations that we act like men. To our surprise, women are not the little girls we knew as children whom we tortured with insults and physical abuse before subjecting them to the noxious fumes leaching from our bowels. They are something else. Just what that something else is will remain unknown until we acknowledge our ignorance and begin to remedy the situation.

               Tango has a reputation as the world’s most romantic dance. Dancing tango is more of an altered state of consciousness than it is an exercise to the rhythm of the music. It is not so much a dance as it is a goal to be attained. Getting there is hard work and that is how romance makes its way into tango.



Hey, for more Kayak Hombre, check out my books available on Amazon:

Anger, Intimacy and Tango

A woman asked me about my book Fear of Intimacy and the Tango Cure and if I had truly overcome my fear of intimacy. In my response I found myself explaining that the definition of intimacy is different for men and women. Reaching for a better explanation I thought about a time when I tried to be intimate in a relationship. I tried and tried but nothing worked until I finally I got mad and lashed out at her….voila!

This woman had a desire for me to be intimate. I don’t think she knew what that meant but, what I said in anger immediately satisfied her need for intimacy.

People are so complex. 

I have to wonder if this volatile formula isn’t a part of tango’s success.

Men are argumentative by nature. We deplore being alone. That may seem odd unless you consider that Nature is often a man’s only companion and he is usually busy battling against it, sailing the seas, trying to defy gravity. In doing so, he learns that he must move in harmony with Her or risk destruction.

Imagine for a moment that women and Nature are one and the same. A man sticks with tango because he refuses to let it get the best of him. He will not quit. The man in your embrace is trying to outlast you, the music and Nature. He will either fail or succeed. It is this dynamic that women find addicting.

I suspect that women are Nature because they listen to reason. Overhearing a conversation between two ladies, I am surprised at the lack of animosity between them. This does not happen when men talk. From what I hear, I am certain an argument must ensue but none does. One of the women comes to understand the logic of her companion and that is the end of the discussion.

I am not saying women are perfect; they are far from it. So are men. I am not saying that men should act on their anger, only that it is a natural reaction. What I am trying to do is explain the confusing and maddening subtleties of intimacy and how tango brings this out in the dance in such a way that we feel compelled to continue our quest for perfection.

The way I see it is that men and women are like tops spinning. If left alone, we will wobble and fall down. Together, however, with the music playing and both of us trying to attain synchronicity with the other and the music, we achieve a change of state, like ice melting or water boiling, like photosynthesis or a nuclear chain reaction; together we realize our natural abilities.

The two wobbling tops come together and their rotation increases instead of slowing. All of the man’s anger is there but it is neutralized by the woman in his arms. He is at peace and she is satisfied that she is getting what she needs. Something grows, the music ends and the couple parts. This is tango.

Tango Women

            This may be one of the most daring blogposts I’ve ever written......or the stupidest. I want to say who I think these women are that dance tango and I know in my heart that it is a mistake to do so. I fear I will piss off so many women that I will lock myself out of the pastime that has gotten me through such a rough patch in my life.

            I am not afraid. 

            I am very afraid. 

            These are words I say to myself often. The first statement is a lie, the second is the truth and it must be spoken. Such is the curse of a writer.

            Tango women are barren professionals looking for meaning in their lives. That is so not true but I needed to say it.

            There are many tangueras I’ve met who have no children and yes, they are professionals: doctors, lawyers, nurses, etc. Of the ones I’ve gotten to know well, they all answered a question I had in my mind but did not have to ask, “How do you feel about not having children?”

            Their responses to the question varied greatly but regret was a consistent theme in their replies. How they dealt with that pang of conscience was unique to each of them. I have to deduce from their musings that they felt some sort of societal pressure to answer that question to their own satisfaction.

            Here is the complete truth: most of the women who dance tango are mothers. They are moms, grandmothers and even great-grandmothers. Many of these ladies are not even professionals; they are cashiers, electricians, welders, waitresses and dog-groomers. In fact, there is no stereotypical woman who dances tango.

            Tangueras cannot all be lumped into one category but I will take a risk and say this: they are all artists. They have something inside they feel compelled to express through movement and tango accommodates that desire.

            It seems to me that dancing tango brings them joy but also a frustration that what they have said through their dance was not quite right. Tango becomes a quest for a satisfaction that eludes them. Their lives become a constant search for the right dance partner, the perfect music, the appropriate setting or who knows what. I certainly don’t, nor do I think that they know either.


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Tango Styles

               Hi there, it’s me again, the Kayak Hombre, sending my unsolicited insights into the sophisticated world of Argentine Tango into cyberspace. This week’s topic: tango styles. There are many ways to dance tango and I’d like to point out the ones I’ve seen employed most often.

               By far the most common method practiced is the Wrong Way. It’s very popular and it is the style first acquired by nearly everybody. There is not much to this particular technique but the practitioner must be certain that this dance can be easily mastered in a few months. I was an ardent disciple of the Wrong Way for quite a few years. In fact, I still revert to this mode when I get lazy. I can tell you from experience that it is a lot of fun as long as your partner is drawing from the same pool of knowledge as you, which is a shallow one.

               I probably would have been content dancing tango the Wrong Way if it didn’t conflict so heavily with what I was learning at the many tango workshops I attended. After two years of lessons and near-constant rejection from devotees to other styles, I decided to move on to the New York style.

               This approach takes a lot of effort and it leads to many new and interesting encounters in the world of tango dancing. New York style focuses heavily on performance-type maneuvers such as gancho/wrap sequences or flying leg lifts. Each month there is a new move en vogue and it is difficult to keep abreast of the changes. It takes at least ten days to master the fundamental movements behind the particular flavor of the week. By the time you think you've got it down, a new one comes along and you're back to the balance bar.

               I think tango instructors from Argentina hate the New York style more than anything on the planet. Something about it brings out their sadistic side. When the Argentines are in such a foul mood it can only be satiated with lessons on the back sacada. It is always the women who suffer for the sins of the many.

               The nice thing about New York style is that it made me aware of the necessity of the tango fundamentals: front/back/side-step, pivot, in-place and pause.  Leaving the Big Apple exposed me to the style of tango that I like the most: Tango Salon. It simply means social tango and it is a combination of the tango fundamentals and a strict adherence to the codigos del tango, or the rules of tango for all you  folks out there in the Five-Seven-Oh.

               I spent the next two years trying to find my balance as I danced my way around the country in search of a paycheck to feed my hungry children who were attending college. Tango Salon can be danced in open-embrace or close-embrace. Ideally the dancers move from open-embrace to close-embrace depending upon their maneuvers. This style of tango requires that each partner pays strict attention to the freedom of the other; almost anything is allowed as long as the dancers’ respective stability is maintained.

               There are many codigos del tango and they are extremely important to this particular style if not all styles of tango dancing. It is a vast subject. If you’d like to know more you can Google the term as this is a topic too lengthy to go into here. My last blogpost, The Politics of Tango, dealt entirely with the rules of the dance as viewed by a man at a milonga.

               Five years into my tango education I encountered the BDSM of tango techniques: Milonguero style. BDSM stands for bondage, dominance, sadism and masochism. I use the term in jest but it is a nearly adequate term for how I feel about this particular discipline.

               Milonguero style is 100% close embrace. That is the bondage aspect. My first encounters with women trained in this technique often felt like I was a participant in a Scottish pole-tossing contest; I would carry the lady around the room with her hanging on my neck until the end of the tanda where I would try and toss her into a chair.

               Milonguero style dancers tend to dominate a certain geographic area. I don’t know if this is by chance or design but there should be warning signs on maps indicating that you’ve entered a Milonguero style-only zone and that it, and only it, is truly authentic tango.

               The sadists are the people who keep bringing back the same instructors year after year and the masochists are the students who keep paying them. I guess these people are into pain: taking it and giving it. If New York style is too acrobatic, then Milonguero style is too rigid.  

               The final style I’d like to talk about is the Argentine Tango style.  This is the best one of them all. It encompasses both open and closed-embrace, the codigos del tango and the fundamentals of tango. It is danced to all kinds of music and enjoyed by widest demographic. This style is open to new techniques, movements and ideas and it is constantly changing the way people dance all around the world.


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The Politics of Tango

             I’d been watching her for an hour and still no one had asked her to dance. I had to wonder if she was one of those tangueras who was born dancing tango and that everybody knew she only danced with the best or that she was the unfortunate victim of being in the wrong place at the wrong time when all the other leaders were preoccupied.  

Everything about her said she wanted to dance: her shoes, her demeanor, the fact that she was sitting up straight and casually scanning the room in case a potential suitor might make eye contact, something the people from Buenos Aires call cabeceo, the clandestine art of asking a woman to dance. There was another woman sitting next to her but the two rarely talked.

I decided to take a chance and fulfill my obligation as a local tanguero to make certain that all the women were getting their fair share of dances.

Getting up from my chair I made my way around the room as if I might be going to the snack table, a common feature at a milonga, the place where tango, and only tango, is danced. I was three tables away from her when our eyes met. My heart leaped as she briefly looked away and back again. She held my gaze to let me know that she had accepted my invitation.

Quickly walking over to where she sat I offered her my hand and guided her to the edge of the dance floor to wait for an opening in the traffic. She started towards the dancers but I blocked her by straightening my arm: we would wait until we got the nod. Several couples passed us by before one leader looked at me and nodded towards the space in front of him.

We moved into the stream of dancers and I quickly integrated her body into mine. To my extreme pleasure she chose to come in for the full close embrace, opting not to block me with her left hand on my bicep.

We were so near to each other that I could hear her shallow breaths in my ear. I was glad that I had just showered and felt confident that my breath was fresh; personal hygiene is of the utmost importance in this sport for there can be no distractions; connection is everything and the slightest faux pas could ruin the entire encounter.

             I waited briefly for the beginning of the phrase in the music and commenced to dancing. Several steps later I led something that she didn’t follow. I quickly changed weight to accommodate the lack of clarity in my lead and led the same maneuver again, making sure I was not knocking her off-balance. She followed it perfectly this time around and we both smiled with delight.

The first song ended much too soon and we both stood there as the next melody began. I introduced myself and commented on the fine selection of songs the DJ was playing. We talked quietly for ten or fifteen seconds before entering into the embrace once more. We took our time making contact and I waited for the proper moment to initiate movement.

A minute into the song we collided with another couple. I could tell that the leader was new as I offered my apology and assumed responsibility for the collision. That he didn’t do the same was a dead giveaway that he was unaware of the politics of tango. It is up to the leaders to conduct this exchange properly. Either both men apologize and take blame for the mistake or one of them offers an excuse and the other accepts. This is how civility is maintained and the integrity of the women is assured.

Continuing on I took extra care to anticipate the awkward movement of the new tangeuro. It was apparent that he was not aware of his place in the crowd; he needed to wait for a space to open up before moving into it and to stay in his own lane of traffic. Several times I had to dodge him and his lady as they moved against the line of dance and even changed lanes.

The second song ended and we made small talk once again. I flattered her appropriately without suggesting that I wanted something more than the dance. This is my job as the leader: to be charming without resorting to cliches, to acknowledge her assets in such a way as to increase her confidence and find comfort in my company.

The third and final song of the tanda, the group of songs that constitutes the length of a tango engagement, began. We danced better than we had done before and I pushed our boundaries just a little bit to let her know that I was willing to be daring for her but not so far that she would lose faith in me.

The song ended and I waited for the cortina, that odd piece of music that is not tango that separates one tanda from another, to play. I thanked her three times, with sincerity and with vigor. I made sure she knew that the pleasure was all mine, that I felt fortunate for having spent the past ten minutes in her company.

As the other couples dispersed, I escorted her back to her table. I did not intrude on her space for fear that she might think I was imposing. I merely followed behind her for the sake of appearance so that others would see that she was being respected and not returning to her seat alone.

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