Sunday, February 21, 2016

All Bra and No Birdies

     Last night I think I danced with a man. She was very attractive. I've always thought I could easily discern the difference but this time it was difficult. Frankly, I wouldn't have suspected she was hiding her gender if it wasn't for her low hum of approval at the end of our encounter. I was just about to do the same thing and I was baffled at how much she sounded like me.
     I'm not complaining but I prefer to dance with women. Also, I think she was letting me know that I could get lucky in a subtle way, in much the same manner as a man might do, letting me know she lived nearby and saying so in such a way as to have multiple meanings. I take this as more incriminating evidence of a well-played deception.
     After our tanda, I took note of her features. Her face was pretty but the more I imagined her as a man, the more it took on that persona. She was tall but not too tall for me, and slender in the shoulders, hands and neck. I recalled feeling her bra pressing against me and being surprised at how much fabric I felt; it was thickly cushioned...and empty. Her ribcage was missing the appropriate rib and I am wondering if this is now a surgical option. She had a high waist, usually a sure sign that she was a woman, or maybe not as I would later concur after I was propositioned by an unattractive tanguera later on in the evening.
     By the time I received the aforementioned invitation, I was seeing transvestites everywhere. I accepted the dance request despite my suspicions because I've had many wonderful dances with women who do not possess the stereotypical feminine physique. It was not a satisfying encounter but she was definitely a woman. I was very apprehensive at first because it looked like she was wearing a wig, her hips were not clearly defined and her facial features were not very appealing. However, her voice was high and there were large mounds of mushy flesh where her breasts should be.
     The most telling aspect of her character was her ability to sense my intentions and my mood. I was not happy at having been asked to dance and she let me know that she didn't care. I could be pissed if I wanted but she was going to try and get a dance with me because she did not come here to sit on her ass the whole night. This is woman logic beyond a shadow of a doubt. I did a good job with my offerings, made sure I held her as respectfully as I would the most beautiful tanguera I'd ever met. I did my best to be creative and gave her every opportunity to make the dance all about her but she was not a good dancer.
     When we parted she said she was delighted and looked forward to more dances. She knew right away there wouldn't be any: she was a woman and she knew intuitively that I did not appreciate being asked to dance.
     I sat down for three tandas just to gather more data on the ladies present. I was determined to spend the rest of the evening in the embrace of women with certifiable feminine credentials and am fairly certain I did but one can never know for sure in this day and age.




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


Tuesday, February 16, 2016

Kayak Hombre Update: I'm Home!

     After 5 years traveling around the country I was finally in a position where I could take a break from my career and enjoy a little time off. It's funny how it happened. I think learning the art of cabeceo has helped me recognize intentions long before words are spoken. Thank you, tango, once again, for adding so much value to my life.
     I was working a crappy assignment in Ohio, dancing tango in Pittsburgh, when the opportunity to escape presented itself. It was sometime in July when my boss's boss came to our facility. I was brought in as a contractor due to the sudden death of an employee. I would find out later that another had also died and that two more had cancer in a pool of ten technicians.
     I had to get out of there but how to do it without ruining my chances for future employment? It was my suspicion that this visit from management may provide me the chance to gain full-time status with this particular company and I was ambivalent about the prospect. I didn't like the people I worked with and I was certain there was some hidden factor related to the recent fatalities and illnesses as well as a horrible on-call schedule meant to destroy my circadian rhythms once and for all...but the prospect of being a regular employee, privy to all the nice things that came with it like healthcare and paid time off was very alluring.
     It was Wednesday when the regional director arrived. On Monday, two days prior, I had this incredible yet inexplicable feeling that something good was happening in my life. The supervisor visited all the techs in their cubicles and made it clear he was taking us to lunch. I hated going to lunch with these guys. They never tipped and you could tell by the looks on the wait-staff's faces that serving them was not a pleasure. I imagined what was going on in the kitchen when our food was being prepared and I'm sure it was not pretty or even sanitary.
     When I was invited to join the rest of the crew I declined. That little voice in my head told me this was a mistake but I stuck by my decision. The next month's budget did not include funds for a contractor and soon I was on the unemployment line. My boss felt bad and gave me a good letter of recommendation: now I was free to roam around the country.
     The following month I camped, hiked, fished and danced a lot of tango in Pittsburgh. The next two months I went to the Four Corners Region, NM/CO/UT/AZ, and did some more camping and danced more tango in Durango and Albuquerque. I had a great time but my funds were running low so I came back to PA to stay with my parents after the Albuquerque Tango Festival. From here I could dance more tango in Philadelphia and NYC while I looked for full-time employment.
     Surprisingly I found the tango in Philly much more rewarding than NYC. It was the other way around when I left in 2011. Also, I got back into the other dances: swing, cha-cha-cha, rumba and salsa. With one week left on my unemployment claim and my bank accounts near zero I landed a job based out of my hometown; there would be lots of travel but at least I could occupy the place I'd been struggling to keep the whole time I'd been chasing work around the country, trying to provide for my college-aged children.
     God loves me. He tells me so each time I cross the bridge over my beloved river, the Lehigh. Further proof, as part of my training, I have been sent to NYC for a 5 week assignment, all expenses paid. Since I've been back I've had the most amazing tango excursions. The women have been phenomenal. I wake up the next day remembering dreamy dances with darling tangueras.
     I have not experienced this kind of feeling to this degree of magnitude ever. I think it is because this time I know I will not have to be leaving. The last five years have been hard on my heart and I blame tango for that. I fell in love with a wonderful woman and didn't (couldn't?) hang around to nurture that relationship. I am broken in so many ways. I cheated on her and destroyed something that, in hindsight, would have been incredible. I should have done things differently but c'est la vie. My sex drive has been devastated and now I understand its purpose: it is there to get us to take chances on illogical life-paths, to prevent men like me from becoming monks when we are needed so badly by the opposite sex to end two lifetimes of loneliness simultaneously.
     At 55 years of age, I realize that I may only have enough love in my heart for one last relationship and I've got to make it count. I feel like a guppy in a fish tank of piranhas. I am so close to heaven, to living a life while working close to home, running the river, dancing tango, mowing the lawn, voting in the local elections, maybe even going to church to be a part of the community, yet I fear that I may blow it based on my previous experiences.
     There you go, readers. That is where the Kayak Hombre has ended up. There but for the grace of God go I. My path in life is on a precipice climbing the side of a mountain. The future is uncertain. I am poor in material things but rich in the ways that count. I have my kids, my house and my career as both a telecom junkie and a writer currently working on a book about witches. I've been away for the last six months but now I'm back. Stay tuned for more insight into my life, into tango and other things.

peace, love, tango
the kayak hombre