Tango is a dance where two people, often complete strangers, move as one in an intimate embrace. The touch of another person, particularly one of the opposite sex, sets off a physiological chain reaction in our bodies resulting in something we call emotions. This is not a onetime deal; our emotional state is in constant flux during the engagement: attraction becomes arousal which morphs into infatuation; frustration becomes anger that transgresses to disgust.
To dance tango regularly a person must be in control of his or
her emotions. Failure to do this can be embarrassing at best and devastating at
worst.
Emotional discipline is not without consequences. An emotion is a part of us
that is connected to the universe at a level we cannot comprehend. Emotion-damming
is probably the greatest danger in tango. It is like unrequited love or a
constantly recurring dream; it is inescapable because it is part of us.
Harnessing the feelings unleashed inside me as a direct result of my tango
dancing has not been an easy task. Blogging is how I come to grips with the
most persistent sensations but there have been others that were not so easily
placated.
Mostly I am talking about attraction and infatuation but there
are others. The more I learned about tango, the more I realized what a fool I
was to think I was any good at it. Inadequacy, despair and humiliation are just
a few of the curves on the emotional rollercoaster of tango.
A common scenario has me certain of my performance and the image I am striking
in my partner’s mind. Something about her changes and my self-esteem starts to
collapse. I stumble and my intentions become unclear. I begin to believe I’ve
lost her confidence in me and I crumble inside.
Several times I’ve found myself so infatuated with a woman that I could not
concentrate on my work. As a father providing for two school-aged daughters
this was a great dilemma: my parenting instinct was in conflict with my desire
for these women. I needed to provide for my children but my passion was making
it difficult for me to concentrate on my work.
I have always resolved this by telling the woman about my feelings. Each time
there was a different reaction. Twice I ended up in a relationship but today I
am alone.
Being infatuated is like writing a love poem and I enjoy the experience. I guess it
makes me feel virile.
After eight years of dancing tango I am learning how to show my
partner how I feel through my dance. I am writing rhymes in motion to the
rhythm of the melody. I keep my heart on a leash lest it carry me away,
careening onto a highway from which there is no exit other than crashing through the guardrails and bursting into flames.
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