Sweet Young Thing

               “Men just want to dance with a sweet young thing,” is a phrase often spoken by women as they try to make sense of the intense emotions unleashed inside them on the road to becoming a tango dancer. I don’t know what those feelings are but I can tell you I have borne the brunt of many a storm let loose by extremely discouraged ladies attempting to vent, if not cope, with the situation.

               They say they are frustrated by their lack of dance invitations but I suspect there is something more than that.

               I never know what to say except that tango is rough on almost everybody who doesn’t immediately realize that peace of mind comes from confidence, which comes from competence, which is achieved through proper practice. To assimilate smoothly into the culture of this passionate dance, we must learn how to move on our own balance. 

               I am not going to write about balance because that subject has been beaten to death, hopefully, by every instructor you’ve ever met. I want to talk about the aforementioned idiom sweet young thing.

               I find it remarkable that I’ve heard that exact phrase uttered in conversations with women from the New York City to Tucson to Minneapolis. Normally, a colloquialism will morph in different regions of the country but not this one. I suspect it is a media-born expression that rides a wave created by a myriad of authors in a sea of women’s magazines.

               That saying seems to be chock full of jealousy but there is something hidden within those words that gives it staying power as it travels, unchanged, on the lips and in the minds of women around the country.

               At my ballroom dance practice, in Fargo, one of the ladies present was complaining about a dance with a tall, rude man whose “fly was undone and wore his breakfast on his sweater.”

               Eventually, in the gaggle of gals that sympathetically joined in, sweet young thing was again invoked.

               I looked into each of the faces of the women seated at the table and it occurred to me that a sweet young thing lived on inside every one of them! When they talked about her, they were speaking about the young girl they once used to be, not some hottie getting too much attention from the men at the gathering.

               When an older person dances with a person much younger than them, no matter that it is old man/young woman or mature woman/young man, a certain dynamic comes into effect. I can comment on the former because I have often been the aged male in the coupling.

               In this situation, I am infinitely patient and without demands. It happens naturally. I am happy just to be touching her and she can make no mistake as far as I am concerned.

               This is how every woman, young and old, wants to be treated when she is in the tango embrace. She needs to feel her partner appreciates her and is without demands.

               Once again, tango has shined a light on the greatest mystery of all, women, and illuminated another piece of the puzzle. The more I learn about them, the more I realize that there is to learn. 

               I doubt that one life is enough to see the whole picture. I wonder if men and women are not meant to spend eternity trying to figure each other out. I guess I'll find out in the next life, if there is one.