Learning to say no

Noticing - Jonny Hughes

A guy being a moscón, feeling women up, forcing a woman into the embrace, dancing for themselves or forcing moves on you - it’s not OK. That’s why it is more than ok - necessary - to say no.

Learning to say "no" to guys is a process that is not natural to a lot of women. Some will say that this statement diminishes womens agency in our modern world, but I have much empirical experience that demonstrates the truth of it.

Women know they don't have to have sex with guys they don't want to. So why do they accept being pulled into an unwanted embrace on the dance floor? Why don't they realise what is going on? When I ask women this they become uncomfortable. The realisation that we don't know how to say no to guys outside of the bedroom becomes a sort of shame, or at least of discomfort: that sense of being forced to appear impolite versus compromising what they personally are happy with. It is that fear of not wanting to appear impolite that some guys play on.

In the absence of guys waiting for the subtle signal from the women to show interest women can at least learn to protect themselves better. That takes noticing - recognising - that they are uncomfortable, reflection as to why and a desire to do something about it. That is too much for many. It can be easier to put up with it, not think about it or drop out.

Tragi-comedy

Garry Knight

Over the years I came to seek only connected, musical dancing so that it has been aeons now since I have danced tango with guys who dance for themselves or for show. If I accidentally encounter them, I feign injury and walk away rather than endure more than a few moments, never mind a quarter hour. 

About six months ago I did find the kind of dancing that is wholly about music and connection. I danced with the guy half a dozen times and each time it was like a match flaring, a reminder of what dancing tango is all about. But he was a casualty of that tale that had so much fallout. I almost never see him now. My dance relationships are never more than friendships at most, nor, I am certain, was anything other desired on either side, but those dances were wonderful.

 The last time I saw him he was dancing with the protagonist of that story who looked like the cat who'd got the cream. It might as well have been the story of a tango albeit in a dance context - heaven then loss, lack (falta) and absence (ausencia). The tangos, 100 years old some of them, are full of such words and can seem like caricatures. Made into headlines they would read  "He loved her like no other" "She abandoned him" "Betrayal!" "Revenge!"  Outdated in their exaggerated expression of two-dimensional feeling, for all that we love the music, we sometimes poke fun at the lyrics.  Yesterday's tragedies become the tragi-comedies of today.

And so it is with this darkly comic story.  I travelled Europe for years looking for great dancers only to find one of the best on my doorstep. Soon after he disappeared, reappearing dancing with the fledgling who once confessed that jealousy had incited them to try to spoil our dance relationship.  Sad, indeed, but there is already something comical in all that and the tale is so close in style and format to the tangos that it is doubly so, a case of life imitating art.  Life is funny and seeing that helps with the darkness. 

Time slowly washes away all things but I am grateful for the handful of videos to look back on of those dances.

Dancing for themselves

My son, aged 7 at the end of dancing to a milonga, solo. 

I have a much-loved video of my young son dancing solo to the milonga Ella es así by Edgardo Donato, complete with bum waggles and twirls. 

Solo dancing is wonderful in whatever genre.  I see, in salsa, people possessed of a confidence I can only marvel at dancing both together and apart in the same song. That must be something you figure out together when you have experience or a natural confidence in dance. 

A guy dancing for himself when he has an inexperienced partner is something to recoil from. 

Early in my tango dance life women would complain about guys who "danced for themselves". I remember lots of bad dances, avoiding guys in classes, but maybe everything was too new, or maybe all guys danced like that so I thought it was normal.  I vaguely recall wondering what exactly these women meant.  It was perhaps not until a year or two later that I corralled these experiences into a concept.  Few seem to reflect and extrapolate thus far upon their experience.   

I went to a salsa event and danced with a guy who has danced for twenty five years - the dance was small, subtle, competent and connected.  Then I accepted a dance with a guy with whom I had been chatting.  He had danced for just a few years but could not only recognise rhythms I could not but apparently dance them.  "OK, but don't let me go.  I don't do that dancing on your own thing".  He laughed. He seemed very comfortable dancing but I was getting lost, staring fixedly at his feet (never a good sign) in an effort to keep up with him. Perhaps the track was too unfamiliar and too fast for me but for years I hadn't experienced the feeling that I was at fault in dance. I was shown that, dancing tango, there are no mistakes, there is just what happens and the unexpected is usually an opportunity for something fun. When I dance in the guy's role, which is most of the time, if she (or he) can't keep up with me, dancing say, a rapid milonga, I dance half time or less, I adapt to whatever they can do. I didn't know the music, or this guy and I am fairly new to salsa.  I was in his city, which I barely know, a venue I didn't know and he did, dancing a dance he knew and I don't.  I was in his hands, all those things plus the simple fact of dancing the guy's role implies a responsiblity. Guys tend to know this instinctively.  They are used to it and it's what they like.  It's part of why very often, they balk at dancing in the other role. 

"You just have to feel the beat" he laughed at me. I can't remember when I last felt so disconnected  with a partner.  I floundered, felt lost, a blunderer. With my twelve plus years of dance experience why did I feel so un co-ordinated?  I understood he was joking, yet still meaning that I was the problem, that I could barely dance.  My lasting memory is of the confusion, shame, embarrassment of feeling terribly uncomfortable; yet you have to act as though everything is fine and you're just an incompetent, una tonta.  The worst of it is that everyone else  - your potential dance partners - then think you can't dance.

I am sure he didn’t want me to feel like that but he danced for himself rather than with me.

The flip side of this fortunately brief experience was that I appreciated even more the men who have put me at ease dancing salsa, dancing with me, guys with whom I felt relaxed. Virtually all of them have been experienced. On the two or three occasions when I have been inveigled in to to dancing with inexperienced men, it has been predictably disastrous. When it works well it is nothing to do with what moves they have.  The less I realise they are doing moves, the more in fact I have liked it.  It is because they are experienced, because we stay connected, because, as a new dancer in this genre, I feel safe with them. I was lucky that my first dances in this genre were with a guy I already knew and trusted from tango who was also an experienced salsa dancer. From that you can relax and trust them and then the fun can start.

A couple of weeks later I received a message:  Ya sé que no bailo bien, pero tampoco es para que me dejes de hablar.  

Hmmm.... I thought, but replied, although with more of the misgivings I had had before that dance. 

"Snobby" dancers

Public domain vectors

There has been a theme, in the last few months, albeit interrupted, about that see-saw, that balancing act of invitation and acceptance, of equal desire: the right person in the right place at the right time.

In the milonga, the classic lament one hears upon someone being rejected for dance is:  “they’re snobby”, picky - or their tone says it instead. 

People who say this have not been in the position where they don’t want to dance with someone.  Or, they have, but they fail to extrapolate that when the boot is on the other foot. Or maybe that person doesn’t want to dance with someone but submits to pressure and therefore wrongly expects that everyone else should make the same mistake. 

Empathy includes respecting other people’s choices even if you don’t understand them. It means accepting a rejection or a lack of interest and moving on.  

The pest / El moscón

Sillygwailo

 

The milonga has the great advantage of being a social and visual environment, so continued harassment to dance by a guy is extremely unlikely.

I asked a Spanish friend to check over the Spanish version of  Muggers which starts with an analogy with the female robber fly. A fly in Spanish is "una mosca". The suffix ón suggests something bigger than normal. I didn't know it at the time but in Spanish slang, "un moscón" is a guy who won't leave you alone. (RAE: An annoying an tiresome man, especially in his amorous endeavours".  Basically,  a pest.

"Un moscardón" is a worse version of the same thing (according to the RAE: "Impertinent, annoying, man, a nuisance".) ""Qué mosca cojonera", is the vulgar expression you might use if you were really annoyed: "What a pain in the arse/creep."

At a milonga recently where, in the cortina (interval music signifying the end of that dance), all the dancers were much closer together than I find normal or comfortable, an older guy had several times tried to make eye contact from very close range. Eventually he walked right up to invite verbally while I was chatting. I said no thank-you, and that was the end of it. That is usually as bad as it gets, which is to say, manageable, if you know the ropes or simply have good instincts.

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La milonga tiene la gran ventaja de ser un entorno social y visual, por lo que el acoso continuado para bailar, por parte de un hombre, es extremadamente improbable.

Le pedí a una amiga que revisara la versión española de "Atracadores", que comienza con una analogía con la mosca ladrona. En el argot español, un moscón significa un tipo que no te deja en paz. (RAE: "Hombre pesado y molesto"), y "un moscardón" es una versión peor de lo mismo. (RAE: "Hombre impertinente que molesta con pesadez y picardía").  La expresión vulgar, "qué mosca cojonera", es lo que podrías decir si estuvieras realmente enojada.

Hace poco, estaba en una milonga en la que, durante la cortina (música no tango durante la cual la gente se retira de la pista), los bailarines estaban más cerca unos de otros de lo que yo estaba acostumbrada y no siempre era cómodo.  Un hombre mayor intentó varias veces establecer contacto visual desde muy cerca, lo cual evité. Finalmente se acercó para invitarme a bailar verbalmente mientras yo charlaba con otra persona. Le dije que no, que gracias, y se acabó el asunto. No suele ocurrir nada peor que esto y es manejable si se conocen los entresijos de la milonga o simplemente si tienes buenos instintos.

Estoy muy agradecida a Flor por su ayuda con la traducción. Cualquier error restante es sólo mío.

Why she doesn't she accept? / ¿Por qué no acepta ella?

creazilla

This piece was originally published on 16 April 2023.  I am republishing it after substantial re-edits, particularly in the Spanish. 

In conversation recently, a Frenchwoman remarked that a man in a shop buying a gift for his wife, had asked her, a perfect stranger if she liked the pullover he was holding up.  Yes, she replied.  But are you buying for me, or for your wife?  

The issue then is that women don't all have the same preferences nor, patently, want to be treated as if we are all the same. That's quite a high bar, considering the answer a woman gave recently when asked why might she avoid dancing with some guys.  "Simply, when they treat you as if you're not there.  Sometimes, they can think they're big shots. When there is a gender imbalance at a dance and they are in demand, it can go to their head.  The men think because they're in demand they must be good, so their dance becomes all about them and what they want.  

Another woman voiced the same idea,  "I don't want to be anyone's rag doll", underscoring the idea that, all too often, men do things to women, instead of with them.

A friend said, it's a chemical thing:  it's about whether I feel at ease with him or not.

The music will fill him from his heart to his feet and when you have that, you don't need steps, routines or formula. The more music he dances, the and fewer steps he does, the more I like it. I want, too, to see a harmony and connection in the couple. Not listening to the woman expresses itself in many ways: he does his own thing, he's too forceful, or abrupt, or he doesn't embrace. Or maybe he does embrace but I am not compatible with his embrace or just with how he is. Perhaps he's too stiff or chews gum. I love the honeyed tones of Raúl Berón but some men sing or hum in my year, which isn't my thing, especially if they are out of tune.

Guys I try to avoid at all costs are those who dance steps.  There are some moves where she just isn't given much choice. Practically no-one now, thankfully, pulls a presumptuous gancho or leg wrap on me,  nor a sandwich nor a pasada. But sometimes I make a mistake when I see a guy dancing. I watch him and he seems to be smooth and quiet in dance. I seek his interest, accept his invitation but then he pulls out his class-learned steps, apparently for my benefit. 

The pasada for instance, is a move in which she steps over his ostentatiously outstretched foot, as if doing so was an honour for us - and this is one of the less objectionable moves.  I am so shocked and mortified, that I freeze.  Then I go through the expected motions and forget I could maybe turn his pasada into something else, changing the course of that "conversation". Or, if desperate, I might fake a sudden twisted ankle or, had I the gall, simply say, I dance with  people, not steps and walk away.

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Este texto se publicó originalmente el 16 de abril de 2023. Lo vuelvo a publicar después de reeditarlo a conciencia.

En una conversación reciente, una francesa comentó que un hombre que estaba en una tienda comprando un regalo para su mujer, le había preguntado, a ella,  una perfecta desconocida, si le gustaba el jersey que tenía en la mano. Sí, respondió ella. Pero, ¿me lo compras a mí o a tu mujer?

Que los hombres no nos traten como si fuéramos todas iguales o tuviéramos los mismos gustos se podría considerar una expectativa bastante alta, teniendo en cuenta la respuesta que dio hace poco una mujer cuando le pregunté por qué evitaría bailar con algunos hombres: 

"Simplemente porque te tratan como si no estuvieras. A veces, ellos se la creen, te ningunean, actúan cómo autónomos. Cuando hay un desequilibrio de género en el baile y ellos están muy solicitados, puede subírseles a la cabeza, así que el baile es monótono, se convierte en algo que gira en torno a ellos y a lo que quieren, y no a su pareja.

Otra mujer expresó la misma idea añadiendo, "No quiero ser la muñeca de trapo de nadie", haciendo hincapié en la idea de que, con demasiada frecuencia, algunas cosas se les hacen a las mujeres, en lugar de hacerlas con ellas.

Una amiga dijo que para ella es algo químico: Se trata de si me siento a gusto con él o no.

Sobre todo, el hombre tiene que bailar la música. Es decir, él elige la música que quiera bailar, y con quién. La música le llena desde el corazón hasta los pies y por eso no necesita pasos, ni fórmulas, ni rutinas. Cuanta más música baile, y menos pasos haga, más me gusta. Además quiero ver una armonía conectada en la pareja. No escuchar a la mujer incluye todo un subconjunto: va a lo suyo, es demasiado fuerte o brusco, no se abraza. Quizá sí abraza, pero yo no soy compatible con su abrazo, o con su forma de ser. Quizá es demasiado rígido o masca chicle. Me encantan los tonos melosos de Raúl Berón, pero algunos hombres me cantan o tararean al oído, que, en general, no es lo mío, sobre todo si desafinan.

Pero es esta historia de pasos lo que más me molesta. Hay algunos movimientos en los que ella no tiene demasiadas posibilidades de responder. Por fortuna, hoy casi nadie me manda un enganche presuntuoso ni una mordida ni una pasada. Pero a veces la pifio cuando intento ver cómo baila un chabón. Lo observo y su baile parece suave y tranquilo. Busco su interés, acepto su invitación pero entonces él saca a relucir los pasos aprendidos en alguna clase, y supuestamente lo hace por mí.

La pasada por ejemplo es cuando ella tiene que pisar por encima de su pie ostentosamente extendido, como si pasar por encima fuera un honor para nosotras. Y éste es uno de los pasos menos desagradables. En esos momentos estoy tan mortificada que me quedo paralizada. Como respuesta, realizo los movimientos esperados, mecánicamente, y olvido que quizá podría convertir su pasada en otra cosa, cambiando el rumbo de la “conversación”. O bien, si es urgente, podría fingir una repentina torcedura de tobillo o, si tuviera el descaro suficiente, decir simplemente, Solo bailo con personas, no con pasos y marcharme.

Estoy muy agradecida a Ale, Amelia, José, Juan Carlos, Rodrigo, Reinaldo  y a los miembros de los foros de Wordreference por su ayuda con la traducción. Cualquier error restante es sólo mío.

Dancing to be social / Bailar para ser sociable

This post is a follow-up to Indiscriminada.

A woman who dances salsa told me: When I was younger and a man approached me, too full of himself, thinking himself god's gift, well, sometimes I would become a bit distant with him, but if he wasn't arrogant, acted normally, I would respond in kind, I would be respectful. I don't want to discriminate, I don't want to be rude to people who are not rude to me.

She behaved thus, empathetically. She said, "You have to put yourself in the other person's shoes"

But this is salsa, where most songs last between three and five minutes. Dancing tango is a dance in an embrace that lasts about twelve minutes with three pauses of a few seconds. It's about being relaxed with the other person, wanting to take care of them or trust them during that time, seeking a symbiotic, creative, intimate moment. I don't seek or offer dances to be polite. I don't try to soothe or calm anyone's ego. I seek a shared moment with someone who likes what I like, or where we can find some common ground. I dance in different ways depending on my partner, so my definition of common ground is quite broad.

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Este texto es un seguimiento de Indiscriminada.

Una mujer que baila salsa me contó: Cuando era más joven y me entraba un hombre que se las daba, dándoselas, pues, yo, a veces me ponía un poco borde con él, pero si el hombre se actuaba de forma normal, sin ser prepotente, yo hablaba con el normal, lo respetaba. No quiero discriminar, no quiero ser grosera con la gente que no es grosera conmigo.

Se comportó así por empatía. Dijo "Hay que ponerse en la piel del otro".

Pero esto es salsa, donde la mayoría de los temas duran entre tres y cinco minutos. Bailar tango es un baile en un abrazo que dura unos doce minutos con tres pausas de unos segundos. Se trata de estar relajado con la otra persona, de querer cuidarla o confiar en él durante ese tiempo, de buscar un momento simbiótico, creativo, íntimo. No busco ni ofrezco bailes para ser cortés. No intento calmar el ego de nadie, ni curarlo. Busco un momento compartido con alguien a quien le guste lo que a mí, o donde podamos encontrar algún punto en común. Bailo de formas diferentes según mi pareja, así que mi definición de terreno común es bastante amplia.

Estoy muy agradecida a Amelia y a los miembros del foro Wordreference por su ayuda con la traducción. Cualquier error restante es sólo mío.

Notes on translation:

The Spanish term "entrar de alguien" means something like to break the ice, but often with a sexual motive.

"Se las daba, dándoselas - usually these phrases are completed by "de" plus whatever you are passing yourself off as. Se las daba de listo, se las daba de chulo, se las daba de millonario… i.e. they passed themselves off as smart, as a pimp, as a millionaire etc. The terms seem not to be well understood in Latin American but are generally understood in Spain, even in the shortened form.

Chat / La charla

 

This piece is a follow up to a piece I used to call Ensnarement? / Atrapamiento / but which I think of as "Las Droseras" (The Sundews). That piece has recently been revised and republished. Note: while "charla" is used for "chat" in most Spanish speaking countries, "charlar" as a way of persuading people is used in Argentina, and in the piece in the link above.

The reason for the gap in posts since April is because I have revised and updated many of the texts from approximately the end of March onwards, mostly in the Spanish, but often with changes in the English too.

Dancing where you don't know people or when you are new and friendless can be lonely and difficult. 

When I started dancing. I noticed that when I was social, I felt relaxed and when I was relaxed, I danced more. I have always enjoyed chat anyway, found it easy.  Soon I was known as a social butterfly in our local milongas.  Teachers and milonga hosts would pass the new people to me to look after and I felt honoured at the time.

Years later, I more often wanted to avoid dancing with men than to seek out dances.  It's not that I don't like them - I do! It's just that few dance well, and more women dance better. Men were often puzzled at best, offended at worst, but the experienced understand that people have their own preferences adn you can't force that..  More years later I realised that one of the many arts of the milonga is to keep the talk but not necessarily the dances - as long as they agree!

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Este texto es la continuación de uno que solía llamar Ensnarement? / Atrapamiento / pero que ahora considero como 'Las Droseras'. Nota: mientras que "charla" se utiliza como sinónimo de conversación informal en la mayoría de los países de habla hispana, charlar como forma de persuadir a la gente se utiliza en Argentina, y en y en el texto con enlace de arriba.

La razón del retraso en los textos desde abril se debe a que he revisado y actualizado muchos de los textos aproximadamente desde finales de marzo, sobre todo en español, pero a menudo también con cambios en inglés.

Bailar donde no conoces a la gente o cuando eres nuevo, desamparado, puede ser difícil y hasta desolador. 

Cuando empecé a bailar me di cuenta de que cuando era sociable, me sentía relajada y cuando estaba relajada, bailaba más. De todos modos, siempre me ha gustado charlar, me resultaba fácil.  Muy pronto fue conocida como una persona sociable en las milongas de aquí.  Los profesores y los anfitriones de las milongas me pasaban a la gente nueva para que la acogiera y yo me sentía honrada en ese momento.

Años más tarde,  quería evitar bailar con hombres más que bailar con ellos.  No es que no me gusten, ¡sí, que me gustan! Es sólo que pocos bailan bien, y más mujeres bailan mejor. A menudo, en el mejor de los casos, los hombres se mostraban desconcertados, ofendidos en el peor, pero los experimentados entienden que la gente tiene sus propias preferencias y no puedes forzarlas. Incluso mucho después, me di cuenta de que una de las muchas artes de la milonga es mantener la charla pero no necesariamente los bailes - ¡Si es que ellos están de acuerdo!. 

Estoy muy agradecida a Amelia por su ayuda con     la traducción. Cualquier error restante es sólo mío.

Gratitude / Gratitud

This text is an extension of the one titled Opportunity. 

I always noticed and enjoyed nature but for weeks now I have practiced gratitude, mindfully, every day and through the day. It is one of the many silver linings to come from the trouble this year. The time set aside for this at the start of the day is a favourite time. It sets a tone, brings calm and clarity, is grounding and stabilising.

I notice that the things for which I am most grateful while often connected with nature, are most often related to people.

Mark Boyle has written about living for years without money or technology in England and Ireland

In The Way Home, he says:

"[Henry David] Thoreau once wrote that wood warmed him twice: first when he chopped it, and again when he sat by the fire. Well, either Thoreau was being terse or he had it a lot easier than me. I’ve found that wood warms me six times: hauling it 300 metres by shoulder, sawing it, chopping it, stacking it, sitting next to it as it burns and, finally, by eating the food that it cooks for me."

Similarly, there is at least a double pleasure in the milonga which also warms: the moment of encounter with another, be it in dance or glance or chat and the moment of gratitude later; three times if you count writing about it later still.

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Este texto es una ampliación del titulado Oportunidad.

Siempre observé y disfruté de la naturaleza, pero desde hace semanas practico además la gratitud. Es uno de los aspectos positivos de los problemas de este año. El tiempo reservado para esta actividad al despertar es uno de mis momentos favoritos. Establece un tono, una forma de ver, aporta calma y claridad. Es enraizante y estabilizador.

Me doy cuenta de que las cosas por las que estoy más agradecida, aunque a menudo están relacionadas con la naturaleza, suelen estar relacionadas con las personas.  

Mark Boyle escribió sobre cómo fue su vida en Inglaterra e Irlanda durante años, sin dinero ni tecnología. En The Way Home dice:

" [Henry David] Thoreau escribió una vez que la leña lo calentaba dos veces: la primera, cuando la cortaba, y la segunda, cuando se sentaba junto a la chimenea. Bueno, o Thoreau estaba siendo conciso o lo tenía mucho más fácil que yo. Me he dado cuenta de que la leña me calienta seis veces. Cargándola 300 metros en hombros, aserrándola, cortándola, apilándola, sentándome junto a ella mientras arde y, por último, comiendo la comida que cocina para mi".

Del mismo modo, hay al menos un doble placer en la milonga que también calienta: - el momento del encuentro con el otro, ya sea en el baile, en la mirada o en la charla y el momento de agradecimiento posterior. O tres veces, si se cuenta escribir sobre ello más tarde.

Estoy muy agradecida a Ale por su ayuda con la traducción. Cualquier error restante es sólo mío.

The Birds

 Once upon a time there was a bird who other birds sometimes asked to help them learn to fly and to fly well.

One of these was a young bird who was desperately enthusiastic, so very motivated. The older bird, by its example, shared what it knew, introduced the younger bird to its friends and showed the young one all the special places. It charged nothing. The young bird, with all this attention, learned quickly and well. But it wanted more and more.  It became jealous of the attention the older bird gave even to its friends. It flattered the experienced bird while resorting to underhand practices to try to isolate it from those whose company it valued. The young bird tried to ensure only it had all the older bird’s time and attention.  The experienced bird soon realised its game and left the young bird, who was by now independent, to its own devices. 

But the younger bird was not satisfied and harassed the older bird for even more time and explanations.  It was never satisfied.  For many weeks it pursued the older bird while it flew in the sky, pecking and jabbing at it, getting in its way, refusing to leave it alone until eventually the older bird crashed to the ground and lay there, broken.

The older bird was badly injured. As it slowly recovered one of its friends said: Be careful. Don't you see how the young bird tried to isolate you, to take your place? It still does. It doesn't just want your time, it wants to be you.

Be careful, said another friend. Don't you see it has no scruples. It has proved it can do whatever it likes and it has the energy of its youth to carry it through. But what could the older bird do, even if it had had the strength or the will?

The older bird took a long time to recover.  Most of the time it lay on the ground, unable to move far. Sometimes it managed to lift itself into the familiar currents where it had always flown but it tired easily now.  The young bird disappeared for a while but soon returned to the same skies where it had harassed and hurt the older bird. Seeing the young bird caused the older bird immense pain. Each time it had to relive all the harm that had caused it to fall from the sky, that had changed its life. It worried each time it looked into the sky whether the young bird was going to appear.

The young bird had now changed its appearance and groomed itself to look more like the older bird which was not only odd, but sad because its most obvious asset was its own youth. It still had not learned that the only way to fly well is to be yourself. The bird did not seem to like itself though it did not understand why. It did not know how to address this. Instead, it thought that if other birds paid it attention, which of course they would, the bird being young, it must be a nice bird and it would have friends.

So using its new gifts it played and flirted and cavorted up in the blue in full view of the bird that had helped it and that it had harmed. It did not occur to it the additional pain this caused the older bird or it did not care.  It thought only of itself.  It could have flown anywhere else to play, but it chose to fly right there.

Other birds said how astonishing it was that the young bird had learned so well.  It charmed them with its youth and agility.  On the wind the older bird heard how the young bird was gushing, trying to flatter the more important birds in the community so it would have more admirers and feel better about itself.  

But other birds flew down to speak with the broken bird, to provide solace, help and company.  Some of them the older bird had not heard from in many years.  They were discreet and gentle and kind. Several of the more experienced birds shared their own, similar tales.  The older bird felt solidarity and gratitude.  It remembered that it is difficult events that show friendship and that this is worth far more than the transience of empty applause. 

I wrote this piece to explain the effect seeing the instigator of that harm at local milongas I have always frequented was having and to show why it felt it not unreasonable to wish them absent from them, something I seemed unable to convey without metaphor.