Let Me Tell You That I Love You

               Is it just me or do other guys feel the need to tell a woman when they are struck with infatuation for her? Often times, not every time, I let the women know. This may seem odd but I don’t think my need to express myself has anything to do with a desire to start a relationship or that I am asking for sex. I believe it is a byproduct of tango and should be put out there as a statement of truth and the obvious. To hide it would feel like a lie and impede my ability to connect with her. Sometimes it is the only way I can effectively lead that woman in a dance.

               I’ve learned that if I don’t release my passion it creates stress.

               I am shy and emotionally insecure. In recognizing these facts I am able to take steps to overcome these obstacles and add my efforts to the general tango community as a leader. If I didn’t I’d become a social cripple: too fearful to invite a lady onto the dance floor. I realize, all too well, the precarious position I am putting the tanguera in, but it is a risk I must take or go insane. Such is the nature of tango.

               Tango, for me, has been an education in tethering my heart. I am easily infatuated with women and this dance is showing me how to deal with this problem effectively without becoming a physical and mental wreck.

               Women are dangerous. Their danger is compounded by the fact that they are usually smaller and seemingly more fragile which leads men to underestimate them. They are like kangaroos. Cute, adorable ears, giant feet and funny-looking tails: then they stomp you with those feet and whack you with their tails, leaving you dazed and confused.

               I think one of the hardest things for a man to do is to tell a woman he likes her, hence the difficulty with the words, “I love you.” This is one of the rites of passage a boy must undertake before he can be considered a man. It is the source of all poetry concerning Love. It is also the cause in many of life’s greatest tragedies as it is possible for a man to enter into a relationship and still be unable to express his feelings to his mate.

               If we had many lives to lead, failure to achieve this milestone would not be such a sorrow, but we don’t. We only have one life and the fact that a woman can give up her one chance at happiness to be with a man who is incapable of taking her there, is truly something to be mourned. This is a good reason for me to write, to take a chance in saying something foolish. Hopefully my words will reach a man at the threshold of his passage, who will be inspired to speak what he feels in his heart to the lady he loves and she will be saved a lifetime of regret.

               My first experiment in revealing my infatuation did not go well and I ended up in a relationship.

               The next time I was more careful and a delightful friendship bloomed and exists to this day. I say ‘friendship’ but that is not the right word but it is the easiest one to introduce you to a difficult phenomenon of the male condition.

               One of the worst responses I can receive, after unveiling my fascination for a lady, is for her to say she is flattered and she hopes we can be just friends. What a horrible thing to say to a man! Men and women can never be just friends. To a woman, that response may seem innocuous but, to a man, it is akin to castration. It also forces us into a dilemma that often results in nervous tension.

               The concept of being ‘just friends’ is anathema to a man’s machismo. His sex drive has entered her coordinates into his GPS and now he knows he’s never going to be able to make that last turn into her driveway. The initial attraction makes it hard for him to find a different location to set his sights on and the vagueness of her reaction makes him calculate whether or not he should continue his pursuit in hopes that time will help her change her mind.

               We are men and we don’t know what ‘just friends’ means because we don’t know a woman’s mind. If we allow ourselves to pursue this course it becomes an unworkable, maddening task, much like trying to find the square root of 2: impossible but not beyond a man’s character to attempt to solve.

               It is better to have a woman angry with me for broaching the subject than it is for her to say, “that’s so sweet…” and have her look at me with a compassionate smile that says those words I don’t want to hear.

               To tell the truth, I don’t know what the correct response is but I do know what it is not. If I tell you about some of the reactions I’ve gotten maybe you will find it enlightening.

               The second tanguera, as I mentioned before, is still my friend but we are not ‘just friends’. She knows I desire her and I tell her often how beautiful she is: complimenting her hair, her perfume, her eyes, etc. We dance passionately and sometimes she drives me nearly insane with craving, as if I am a hungry wolf and she is Little Red Riding Hood.

               Let me say this: all the tangueras I will discuss here have this infatuating affect on a great number of men in their tango communities; I am not the only one. This is evident in the fact that their dance tickets are always full and tangueros are waiting on the benches for a chance to dance with them. Oh the stories those ladies could tell!

               The third tanguera I opened up to told me she was flattered but I shouldn’t let myself get carried away. T-4, tanguera four, is Lapushka and I haven’t stopped telling her I am drawn to her like a moth to a flame:-) She takes it well but always lets me know there is no chance. T-5 and T-6 I kept my mouth shut because I was too busy with work to be carried away by my feelings.

               T-7 in Texas took it well for awhile. For some strange reason, as if this whole situation is not strange enough, she cut off all communication and I haven’t heard from her since I left Texas. T-8 I toughed-out and was gone before I could go crazy with desire.

               Lady X, tanguera number 9, is an interesting and special case. She let me say my piece and then asked me to dinner. It turned out she needed help writing her own blog and totally understood why I needed to express myself: that it was like a mental block I needed to get past in order to be a better leader. She didn’t encourage or discourage me.

               I wrote about Lady X several times afterwards and she told me that she enjoyed reading about herself. Our tango after this was phenomenal!

               The last tanguera was down in Albuquerque. I never told her but I was inspired to write a blogpost, Jealousy and a Dog Called Wiggles, describing my feelings for her.

               That’s where I am at now. I am finding blogging to be therapeutic. The next time a tanguera sets my head spinning, puts butterflies in my stomach and carries my heart away, I will sit down and write a long, long letter. Then I will post it on my blog and hit send. It’s been a long road to emotional stability but I think I’m there.


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