She sat
across the table from me at a recent milonga, her body played out across two
chairs. I knew what she wanted even though she seemed to be talking to another
woman at my table. After several minutes, she turned to me and asked if I
remembered her from a milonguero-style workshop we’d both attended a year ago.
I could
recall the event but not her face, yet I told her that I did. When I heard the
words ‘milonguero-style’, they left a bad taste in my mouth. I’d been
struggling with this way of dancing for a long time. It wasn’t until I’d
completed the workshop that I could finally make a thorough analysis of how I
felt about it.
For the
uninformed, allow me to offer a description of this style of tango dancing. It
is very close, most of the diaphragm is in complete and constant contact
between the two dancers. Of the women I’ve danced with who prefer this technique, I've noticed that their pivot is almost silent. As the leader, it is incumbent upon me to indicate direction with my chest in a highly animated manner. The
focus of milonguero-style is almost entirely on the embrace.
Although
I've encountered tangueras who danced this way before, it wasn’t until
I arrived in Albuquerque that I began to suspect that these women were looking for something that I couldn’t offer. In such circumstances, when I
entered the embrace I gave the follower two seconds to make the connection. If she didn’t bond with me satisfactorily
in that time frame, I forced her into open embrace, much to her consternation.
After
the aforementioned workshop, I began to realize that these ladies were
expecting to take five to ten seconds to complete the union. To them, this was
the most important part of the dance and I think it is the part that gives them
the most satisfaction.
A year later I am a little wiser. Now I know to give these particular partners a
little more time to settle onto my frame. I can even spot women who practice
this manner of tango before I offer them a cabeceo. Another thing I’ve noticed
is that I don’t want to engage a milonguero-style dancer unless the right music
is playing.
Maybe it’s
me, it usually is, but I find this mode of dancing so restrictive that I often
get bored with myself halfway through the first song. The most pleasant thing
about milonguero-style is that the woman’s breasts are constantly being mashed,
swept or brushed against my chest: very nice:-) Aside from that, all we are
doing is caminada, or walking, and ocho cortado.
Every
time I lead molinete, the follower almost always performs two cruzadas. This is highly
disconcerting. Also, the lack of pivoting action is so disappointing, I
sometimes fail to hide my dissatisfaction. When this happens, I sense a strong feeling of confusion in my partner.
After a
lot of thought and a year of study, I can safely say I am ambivalent about
milonguero-style. I think it is my responsibility as a leader to accommodate a
woman if she prefers to dance this way.
To be fair to myself, I must pay more attention to how a woman dances
before I offer an invitation. If the music isn’t right or her breasts are
uninteresting, I shouldn’t proffer an invite.
I know,
guys, there are no such things as ‘uninteresting breasts’.
If I had
my ‘drathers’, I’d rather dance with a partner who can pivot on her own axis
and is comfortable moving into and out of the embrace all throughout our
engagement.
As I
stated earlier, the aforementioned woman was sprawled across two chairs,
chatting up my friend. She casually conversed with me after a few minutes. I
took this as a crafty way to get me to offer an invite but I lost interest as
soon as she said "milonguero-style". It was the music. Also, I’d been focusing
on tangueras who enjoyed this manner of dancing all weekend and was finally
coming to the conclusion that everything needed to be just right before I could
enjoy myself in such an encounter.
It was
Sunday night and I’d been to four milongas in less than forty-eight hours. My
left knee was aching and both my feet were on fire. I was content to sit
through many tandas and watch people move around the dance floor.
Several
times I noticed her sitting down at the end of a tanda. Each time I avoided eye
contact when she happened to see me looking in her direction.
After an
extremely exuberant tanda of classic milonga melodies danced with an extraordinarily skilled and delightful tanguera, I finally did make eye contact with the other woman. It
was almost the end of the evening. For some reason I knew the time was right. I
could see her disappointment when our eyes met and then her confusion as I did
not turn away, nodding towards the open dance floor.
She got
up, smiled suspiciously and joined me. I gave her enough time to appropriately
settle into my frame like a bird landing on its nest in the branches of a tree.
Her breasts felt nice against my chest. Her body was soft but not too soft and
she smelled nice, even after three hours of dancing.
When the
music began, we walked to the melody the entire length of the room. I led ocho cortado, then molinete; she executed two cruzadas instead.
It was easy to hide my disappointment because I had been expecting them.
I led a
long side step and took her into en carpa
position, the tent. Our bodies still joined closely at the chest, I was free to
pivot her easily. We played with simple steps together. I was having
a good time. It was then that I realized the music was just right. I lost my
inhibitions about milonguero-style and began to relax.
On the
final song I received a tremendous return for my efforts: she pivoted of her own accord! I led an
ocho and she turned, slowly, and with deliberation. It was incredibly clear and resonant. She carved an arc on the
wooden floor like the gentle sweep of an asteroid around the sun of my soul.
She gave it to me like a gift.
I don’t
know why she pivoted so well and to my complete satisfaction. Maybe I finally
led it right, maybe it took us three songs to finally sync up with each other.
Was she ‘learning’ me? Whatever the reason, it felt very nice and I found
myself infatuated with her. Such is the power of tango.
It was
the end of an awesome weekend of tango dancing. Once again I found
myself carrying wisps of another person’s ethereal soul with me as I headed
home that night. I had learned something new. I was humble and patient. The
universe rewarded me by allowing me to peer into a woman’s soul and it was
beautiful.
Note: for more writings by the Kayak Hombre, check out my book, River Tango, available on Amazon:
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