A couple
years ago, I found myself having dinner with a tanguera whom I desperately
wanted to have sex with. I credit tango for getting me as far as the dinner
table. I blame fate for allowing her girlfriend to accompany us. Sex between us
was never meant to be. That’s how it was when I first started dancing tango:
all I could think about was sex, sex, sex!
Sex is not
so much on my mind anymore but I often think about that encounter and speculate
that there might be some clues in there as to how men and women think about
sex.
I had
wanted this woman for a long time. It was merely a conquest thing. That’s how
guys are.
There
are some women we look at and say, “I have to have sex with her.”
That’s
how women become trophy wives. When a man becomes obsessed with copulating with
a woman, he might do anything to achieve his goal, even marry her. I’m certain
the trophy-target might suspect what her true value in this relationship may be
and play the game to her advantage, whatever that may be.
The
goals of men and women often differ.
When a man pursues a woman for sex, marriage
is not necessarily an outcome, the destruction of a civilization could just as
easily be the result, so powerful are the sexual dynamics between men and
women. I offer the life of Eva Perón
as a testament to the truth of what I say. She didn’t destroy Argentina but she
seriously roiled that nation and it is roiled to this day.
As we
were eating, Lady X and her friend revealed that they thought I might be gay
because I drove a Prius. Wow! What a blow to my machismo! She should have just
asked me to put my penis on the table so she could cut it off. I don’t think it
would have gone well with her Cobb salad.
Lady X
was a big part of my tango education. The first time I danced with her I felt
that there was chemistry. That happens a lot in tango. The next time I invited
her to dance she said no. The look on her face told me why: I needed to get
better.
In the
year that followed, I worked on my dance. I danced with as many women as
possible and took notes. When I thought that I was ready, I asked her to dance
again and she accepted. Our encounter was ecstatic! When we parted she said I
could ask her to dance again….anytime! Yet I could not have the next tanda
because that was reserved for her beau who had just arrived:-( Boy, talk about
emotional rollercoasters!
Her beau
was a tall carpenter. He was good-looking but he couldn’t dance a lick. I
suspect she wasn’t interested in his dancing skills.
That
winter I started dancing in New York City and soon forgot about Lady X. A year
later, I happened to see her again. Once again my desire for her was awakened
and I made it a point to attend events I knew she frequented. Something told
me, quite possibly my penis, that, if I got good enough at this dance, she
might have sex with me. That sounds like a penis talking. Whatever voice I was
hearing, I listened to it and focused on my ability to lead and move to the
music with intensity.
When I
was young, I read a book about seagulls and the art of flying. It is called Jonathan Livingston Seagull. It is about
a boy and girl seagull dating as they are grow up. They are also learning how
to fly. The girl leaves the boy and he puts all his efforts into being a
consummate flyer. One day he becomes so good at it that he disappears….and then
comes back…and so does his girlfriend.
The
moral of the story is, if you love something, let it go; if it comes back to
you then it is yours forever. That is not the lesson I gleaned from this short
novel. I learned that, if I failed at love, I should get better at whatever I
was doing when I found love. If I got good enough, she might decide to give me
another shot at the prize.
Maybe
‘love’ is not the right word here.
Lately,
there has been a saying traveling around Facebook that says a man is a coward
if he awakens love in a woman and doesn’t stick around to make it grow. I agree
with that statement but I have to say that the desire to conquer, once aroused,
is a very powerful force. I can’t offer judgment on any man who concedes to his
desire.
And now
we are back at dinner where my proverbial penis has been chopped off. We are finishing our meal when I get an offer
to swing by her place and check out her apartment. At this point I am very
confused and have to ask myself if the loss of my machismo wasn’t the price of
entry into her abode.
An hour
later we are in her apartment. It is a very awkward moment for the both of us.
She wants me to make a pass at her, this much is obvious. There is a large cat
wandering around and I am reminded of my pledge never to get involved with a
woman who has felines because of my allergies. The oath is a matter of
self-preservation.
The call
of the wild is strong. I am contemplating how I could make this relationship
work. I live two hours away. We are alone in the room together. Her bedroom is
just up the stairs. In twenty minutes we could be naked, lying together,
listening to the sounds of the city and our two hearts beating like lovers.
I let
the moment pass and I think about it to this day. I’ll never know what her
motives were, attacking my machismo and then offering herself up like a lamb.
Maybe she just wanted me to make the pass but I couldn’t risk her accepting it.
I couldn’t chance starting something I had no intention of finishing. After
fifty years of life I had finally learned the difference between lust and love
and this was definitely the former.
Today,
my focus is on ‘flying’: becoming a better dancer, a better partner, a better
person. I have awakened love in a woman who has no cats and I am hoping that
she stays in my life. I am not the same man I used to be; the man who looked at
women and saw sexual conquests is gone. I am not sure if that is a good thing
or a bad thing. All I know for certain is that I am different and that I must
go forward and fly as best as I can.
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