Leah in Chicago tells a man how to lead:
It is Thursday, so tonight I had tango class. More new people, argh. But my teacher is finally saying, "Look, I know it is advertised as drop in, but I'm moving forward anyway." I finally felt empowered to say to one of the men, "Forget anything you've learned about being a sensitive man, it has no place in this room!" He was dancing much better by the end of the night with a little permission to be manly.
Athena finds an early tango lesson creepy:
I really don't like dancing with random guys who also don't know what they're doing. When they introduce themselves I can sense their excitement and it makes me think that they probably don't get out much. And then they get all sweaty and their breaths stink and when we leave each other to switch partners, I swear I can hear the creepiness in their goodbye's and thank-you's. By the end of the night, the area of my shirt on my left shoulder blade is moist with perspiration and my hands feel gross.
Laura just likes to watch (a movie):
This film punches all those deep, dark secret buttons that I don't want to admit to having in the first place. There is a beautiful sequence where Cholo and Alba tango in a slaughterhouse, through a pool of vivid blood--visually stunning though one can only imagine the stench in the Argentine heat. Throughout the film, sex, blood and death are woven together with intoxicating passion. At present, Naked Tango is one of my guilty little pleasures.
Kalilily Time is watching on TV, and remembering:
I'm watching the tango dancers at milongas in Buenos Aires and I'm literally drooling. Just before my mother's sudden shift into major dependency, I was really getting into the tango -- for all of the reasons why all those others love that dance.
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