Being or becoming?

John Hain, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons

One of the very hard things in life is accepting things you don’t understand or you don’t agree with. 

I still find it difficult to understand why the salsa DJ doesn’t want to play the well-loved classics of salsa.  He said they were boring, but he also seemed to admit that they were well-loved when he said that the Latinos would sing them, not dance them. How can something be boring and well-loved at the same time? 

Tango DJs who don't play classics don't pose the same problem. After many years I believe they, probably unconsciously, generally want to be special in some way. In short it's an ego issue. They think it's about them more than the dancers. They think it is their job to educate dancers who come out to have fun. Or they simply do not hear and see what people love to dance, what the floor fills to and what it doesn't. Or some tango DJs - and there are many in this camp somehow - have somehow reconciled themselves, like the salsa DJ, to the contradiction that well-loved classics are boring.

But the way it was put to me, and made sense to me then and now is that The music is like a familiar and loved garden.

Why not apply the same beliefs about tango DJing to salsa? Because it's a different genre. Maybe things are different there...

Maybe the clue the salsa DJ won't play the classics is in the word "commercial". Maybe he thinks commercial means cheap, debased, "popular". But when it comes to social dance, what is popular works. It's the only thing, really that works as he himself recognised when he said that if he didn't play bachata, he wouldn't have enough people to run a club night.

The real point though is not about DJing or salsa or tango. These are just context, examples. The real point is a question: should we accept illogical things, not waste our time trying to get to the bottom of them? Or believe that at bottom, there is some logic if only we can find it and like some tenacious burrowing creature keep at it until we find it?

Is there virtue in trying to learn, to find out or in letting go? Maybe it’s not about virtue, just about how you’re built.  But then, should we accept how we are built or try to be some improvement on that?

Should we be, or should we become?

Boundaries

Ice cream - always yes!

Some things we are clear about all the time and some only some of the time. This is true for our preferences, things that we know and for our values.  While the same son would always say yes to ice cream, having a photo taken after orienteering in Scotland in January, not so much...

A clear "No"!

Take preference:  My mother, 83 next week, finds the same things funny she always did, she will still cut the crusts off her sandwich, as she has always done, she prefers tea with lemon, she loves roses and freesias, she likes dogs but can't cope with birds.  

Take knowledge: My mothers memory is now sadly impaired but I remember my own address. I have to keep the knowledge I refer to when giving guided historical tours, or I will not remember it. 

Take values:  My mum's values remain as they always were.  If I tell her an anecdote in which someone being selfish or impolite she reacts with the same shock she always has.  She will always offer people eating at a table a condiment or a side dish first before helping herself.  In fact, ideally in my mum's world, she wouldn't help herself because someone would offer the same dish to her.  You are caught in a protracted "After you", "No, please, after you" as your dinner cools...   

Why someone refuses a dance could relate to any one of these things. You don't want to dance with her because you prefer someone else; because you know they like the more rhythmic orchestras, or because they come to the milonga when they are ill. The boundary regarding whether you do or don't dance flexes like an invisible force depending on how firm those particular preferences and values are and how definite that particular piece of knowledge is.

How do you know where someone's boundary is? Often, you don't until you try it out. When you do know, it is usually from past experience or because they or someone else tells you: "He never dances milonga"; "She prefer dramatic music"; "She loves dancing simply above all"; "He can't stand a sluggish ronda".

It is the same in life. People generally avoid others with different preferences. You may not find a classical music lover at a rave. How can you see people's differences in preferences on show? Where they interact in public. I see it never more clearly than in people's reaction to my dog. Some adore him, some become aggressive if we simply walk past and he always knows - in advance - who is who!

Some people keep pushing boundaries. The guy who told me not to look at my phone, was one example. I was recently pushed several times to go to a milonga an hour away by someone who wanted a lift.  I said I didn't know if I was going or not. They mentioned the good reason they knew I had to go. I said, noncommittally, that was true. They continued to push that boundary by reiterating the good reason I had to go and reminding me that this reason had an expiry date.

When people fall silent, it's a clear sign. The next sign is withdrawal. When someone still insists on pestering you, even confronting and trapping you, you end up in conflict. That can be what some characters want and only leads to harm. It is better to seek help or keep moving away.

Refusal in dance and in life is about setting boundaries. Setting boundaries come from experience, from knowing who you are, what your preferences and values are. Managing a boundary is harder still, especially when people are too obtuse to see them or set on disrespecting them. When we don’t accept someone's interest we are certainly saying “not right now” and maybe “not at all”.  

Taking risks

I think this was the day my son slipped off this rope swing, from quite a height and landed in a patch of nettles. He was lucky and I felt guilty, bringing him to this risk, but aside from some bruises he was OK.  In the days and weeks before this, this swing had afforded us all a lot of fun.  When I look at some of the photos of my kids climbing trees and swinging on ropes, I can't regret the joy and look of achievement in their faces but equally I can't help but feel that a) we were lucky, b) these activities, after being normal for millennia, are going the way of riding bikes without helmets; in the UK few people do that now, with good reason. We have become more risk averse, especially with our children. After all, fall out of a tree and your chances of escaping injury or death are not great but how often does it happen?

You are at a milonga where you don't know anyone. Should you take a risk, be less discriminating in who you accept dances from, for fear of scaring all the guys away? I have regretted, many times, lowering my standards.  In the milonga, as in life, a woman who is hard to get is a challenge for a guy and these guys can often dance well. Equally, in the early and even middle years of my tango dance journey I have sat and not danced in many milongas and been miserable.

I accepted a dance with an experienced guy recently at salsa. Gradually it dawned on me that he was drunk but by the time I was sure and was deciding what to do, the dance was over. It was an excruciating experience and thank heavens in salsa people usually seem to dance just one track together.

The next time I saw him, he invited me but I wasn’t sure, particularly whether or not he was sober and I didn't accept - one bitten, twice shy. Later that same evening I saw him playing percussion very well, clearly sober.

At the next event he did not invite me, understandably. Later, I said to him he played well and asked if he was a musician. He said not, just that he had been dancing a long time. I said why I hadn’t danced with him the last time whereupon he invited me and I accepted. 

There is the flexibility of youth, which tries everything and a more careful flexibility that comes with experience and exercising judgement. 

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.

*

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.

Opportunity / Oportunidad

During the last week of March, for just a few days breeze brought the fragrance of this blossom across my path. It was utterly delightful, appreciated even more for its transience and in the knowledge that had I not gone out, or on that day or at that time, I might never have experienced it.

The opportunity to dance in the milonga is like that blossom, there for a few mere seconds for the dancer to experience and respond.

* 

En la última semana de marzo, durante unos días, la brisa trajo la fragancia de esta flor a mi camino. Era deliciosa, apreciada aún más por lo efímero, por saber que si no hubiera salido, o en ese día o en ese momento, quizá nunca la habría experimentado.  

La oportunidad de bailar en la milonga es como esa flor, que está ahí durante unos segundos para que el bailarín la experimente y responda.

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

Muggers / Asaltantes

Female robber fly

The female robber fly (Asilidae), also called 'assassins' lie in wait and ambush their prey.

In the milonga, 'muggers' are (usually) women who deliberately get up to dance with a guy, whose invitation they know was meant for someone else, hence mugging. They hijack an invitation, they steal, they intervene between the guy and the woman he intended before he can reach her. They pretend innocuousness and use social embarrassment from both parties to their advantage. It is out and out manipulation of the grossest kind to get what you want for your own ends. It is shocking to experience as the female victim.

Right-thinking guys tactfully do not accept the mugger, even if she is young and pretty. Janis disagrees. She calls a man who dances with a mugger "being a gentleman" but I admire the guy with the character that sees mugging for what it is and who acts accordingly by tactfully indicating his actual choice - and by avoiding inviting muggers.

If a woman made an honest mistake thinking they had been invited when they have not, the man, realising this, will often invite her after he has danced with the intended partner. All of this can be avoided by no woman standing up until the man has comes right up to collect the partner he wants to dance with.

*

Las hembras de la mosca ladrona (Asilidae), también llamadas "asesinas", acechan y emboscan a sus presas.

En la milonga, las "asaltantes" son (normalmente) mujeres que se levantan deliberadamente para bailar con un hombre, cuya invitación saben que estaba destinada a otra persona, de ahí lo de 'asaltar'. Secuestran una invitación, roban, se interponen entre el hombre y la mujer que él pretendía antes de que pueda alcanzarla. Fingen inocencia y utilizan la vergüenza social de ambas partes en su beneficio. Es manipulación pura y dura para conseguir lo que quieren. Es chocante experimentarlo como mujer víctima.

Los hombres que piensan correctamente no aceptan a la atracadora, aunque sea joven y guapa. Janis no está de acuerdo. Ella llama "ser un caballero" a un hombre que baila con una atracadora, pero yo admiro al tipo con carácter que ve el atraco como lo que es y que actúa en consecuencia indicando su elección real, y evitando invitar después a las atracadoras.

Si una mujer cometió un error honesto pensando que había sido invitada cuando, en realidad, él pretendía a la mujer que estaba cerca de ella, el hombre, al darse cuenta de ello, a menudo le invitará después de que haya bailado con la pareja prevista. Todo esto podría evitarse si ninguna mujer se levanta hasta que el hombre se acerque a recoger con la que quiere bailar.

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

Indiscriminate / Indiscriminada

Pxfuel

Some women, even good women dancers, often seem to accept dances from more or less any guy to be "social", to appear popular, because they fancy him, because they just like being up and moving, because they don't care that much who they dance with. 

One of the interesting insights from dancing both roles is seeing things from a different perspective.  I am not alone in thinking "Why would I dance with her, if that's what she enjoy?"  I know good male dancers who think the same.  It's like saying why would we go for a meal if what she likes is fast food? 

Tastes are just different, that's all, but it is useful to see what people like before you go rushing in there

*

Algunas mujeres, incluso buenas bailarinas, a menudo parecen aceptar bailes de más o menos cualquier hombre o para ser "sociales", para parecer populares, porque les apetece, porque simplemente les gusta estar de pie y en movimiento, porque no les importa tanto con quien bailan. 

Cuando se baila ambos papeles, una de las ventajas es la oportunidad de ver las cosas desde otra perspectiva.  Sé que no soy la única que a veces piensa: "¿Por qué voy a bailar con ella, si es con él con quien le gusta bailar?"  Es como, ¿por qué íbamos a salir a comer si a ella le gusta la comida rápida?

Simplemente, los gustos son diferentes, pero es útil ver lo que le gusta a la gente antes de precipitarse

Becoming prey

Keith Williams

If you go to a milonga where you are not known and you accept walk-up dances it is likely those dances will not be enjoyable because insensitivity in invitation will often - but not always  - seep through into the dance.

There is also a knock-on effect - you advertise yourself as prey to all the local hunters.  If they have seen you accept one walk-up invitation the know you will probably accept another. 

Toast

Imagine, three women sitting near one another think a guy has invited them to dance by look.  They all signal acceptance, again by look.  The guy walks over to the one he did actually invite and none of the women get up until, as Janis put it "she can see the whites of his eyes" - essentially until he is right in front of the one he did actually invite. Oscar Casas describes this well.  Many women gain this knowledge only with experience or travel.  

I remember getting it wrong in my first year or so dancing tango, on one of my first trips away at an encuentro.  When I recounted my mortification to another woman, she smiled with long experience and gave me the memorable advice: "Never get up".

A woman who stands up early or  - heaven forfend - goes towards a man she thinks is inviting her, either advertises herself as a mugger or inexperienced or simply that she grew up in a tango culture where these things are not practised.  The latter two are no sin. But in Buenos Aires an Englishwoman who heard it there said that girl gets called "toast". She pops up too early!

Imposition

Johnny Hughes

Freedom was the title of the first post in this blog back in 2014. Agreement and consent are the social friends of freedom. I have written often about its antithesis e.g. Obligation.

Grown up milongas (as opposed to the kindergarten version) are, above all, places of choice. Dancers come and go when they like, nobody probes for full names or even real names, or into personal circumstances.   Women don’t mug guys for dances and guys don't do walk-up, hand-proferring invitations.  Neither “begs” for dances through conversation.  Most of all, they are places where no-one imposes themselves on anyone else.  There is no use of force. 

When one person forces themselves on another, physically, psychologically, socially, any way at all, it is hard to think of more grotesque, dangerous or sickening behaviour, even more so when it is thinly disguised within a civilized setting.

The absolute cornerstone of milonga culture is freedom of discreet invitation and equally discreet acceptance or refusal. This all happens by look (the inviter's cabeceo, the accepter's mirada). It is also one of the most obvious codes (accepted milonga behaviours).

Some people don't truly understand this code. They can't cope with it, but are alert enough to have learned its importance. These types look for stratagems to get round it. This is manipulation: they will manipulate people to get what they want. People who are deaf and blind to the many freedoms that make a good milonga are those who impose themselves on others, who try to oblige others to attend to them, who use others to satisfy their needs. 

Why don't these people adhere to the code like everyone else? Because perhaps they are impatient to dance or ambitious in dance, because they are not at peace, because they are insecure. They need attention, all the time. Consider: what happens to these people if they do adhere to the code but don't manage to dance? They will not have a perhaps understandably disappointing evening, they won't, more resourcefully, instead of dancing, enjoy the music, or the spectacle or the company, or the conversation because that is too objective - it wouldn't be about them. No, this person will have a calamitously bad time because they are not getting that attention. This is a classic narcissistic personality. Their reaction? Probably histrionic, moody, emotional.

How do they get round the code? Both men and women will show off, in their dance, or their clothes or their behaviour. They will demand attention. Until recently while I recognised (except when, catastrophically, I didn't) the danger signs of these types I never really understood why - because I didn't need to. I just avoided them.

So what happens if they don't get dances? Instead of just shrugging, accepting it, not taking it personally, moving on, they will be hostile and resentful, especially if they have been turned down. This is another sign of the immature personality.

Young and pretty female versions might do the indoor equivalent of standing on a street corner. They flirt and chat not for the pleasure of that but as a stratagem to pick up dances because they can't truly relax, find peace in the milonga. They feel awkward unless they are dancing all the time. They don't realise how transparent they are to experienced dancers and so they pick up the dregs they deserve.

To get round the code, men just walk up which fulfils this pathological need for attention in the most obvious way. They aren't patient enough or able to get a dance the accepted way. They get the praise they need simply by getting a woman to accept their proffered hand while the rest of us cringe. The guy who walks up isn't simply a bad dancer, he is sending a warning about his personality.

I have written often about that diabolical triad that motivates so many:  money or power or status.  They are found in these controlling, demanding narcissistic types. Such people are constitutionally unsuited to good milongas.  They will never fit because these traits seem to be hardwired into them.   The focus on money and power are both types of ambition but both of these are really about status.  Attention seekers are just childish versions of adult status seekers.  And status seekers are essentially, profoundly insecure.

What are the characteristics of people who invite by look, who don't use stratagems, who don't impose themselves on others? Respectful and empathetic certainly. Altruistic? Undemanding? Understanding? Calm? Quiet? Patient? Grounded? Observant? Take your pick. They are all excellent models of behaviour. These are signs of listeners, people with an outward focus that is not on themselves, good partners in conversation, in dance and in life.

Resting bitch face

Hallion clothing

My friend suggested lunch out.  

The restaurant manager is scary, I could never invite her to dance!  I said. I had just assumed one of the waitresses was the manageress. She was loud, terrifyingly confident, dominating every situation. I tried for a long time to get the bill, turning in my seat. Even while I was looking for eye contact I realised I was actually avoiding it.

You try! I said. She had the bill within two minutes. She looked prettily submissive as she made the request across the room. How do you do that?! I said amazed.   My dad taught me, she said, smiling.

Another friend who dances is feminine, mischievous, outrageous and funny. She has sparkling, wicked eyes and an irreverent laugh. She is very attractive, has the figure of a teenager and looks twenty years younger than she probably is. She can get just about any guy she wants.  It was she who taught me that there is often more to looking than just looking.

We were in a milonga in Arnhem, talking about men.

I've seen that guy at milongas all week I said indicating a tall, well built man. I think I saw him on previous trips too. I liked his dance. It was quiet and his embrace looked gentle, warm and safe. He knew many people and danced a lot. He looks my way, but he doesn’t invite. Quite often his looks are black, or dark anyway. I don’t know what it means. 

She must have got an invitation from him easily because later she passed me in the gangway to the floor as we were going opposite ways. She held on to me for a moment and whispered: He’s going to ask you. 

- Oh! I said, surprised and pleased. But I was in no rush to go looking and figured it would happen at the right time. Later, I caught up with her: So why now, I said and not on previous days? 
- I don't think he knew you wanted to dance with him.
 - He must have known!  He has seen me looking.  
She rolled her eyes. Yes, but did you smile? 

  - No! I said, as though so much must be obvious. 

-   Well then! You probably had on your resting bitch face, she said, laughing. 

Another friend said much later: Don’t you see! You need to smile at them, not kill them off with a murderous glance! 

- It’s a defensive habit! I objected. It’s how you fend off the bad dancers! 

- Maybe, she said.  Then, as though explaining something to a rather slow child who ought to know better:   It's also how you fend them all off!

In the event there wasn’t a right time. I was chatting to a guy who had just invited me to a vals I did not want to dance, being nervous of a dance with much pivoting with guys I don’t know. I had suggested we dance a tango instead so we stayed where we were. Within seconds the tall guy invited from further down the room. Good dancers in the milonga suddenly like buses! No number one wants for ages then suddenly just what one is looking for arrive together.  He looked and smiled, three times.  That focus and his face transformed as though the clouds had parted and sunshine broken through was so unfamiliar that even though I had been alerted, I was still surprised. I must have done a double-take the first time. He held my gaze the second time When, like a beginner I mouthed Me? still surprised, he smiled again and nodded. 

If I were just to turn him down he would not ask again. So I had to go explain I would love to dance, but could not just then. A bit later I passed him as I was leaving the floor. The friend I was leaving with was talking about going shortly so it was now or never. Heart in my mouth at the impropriety, reluctant and not, I asked casually if he still wanted to dance. They do this a lot in the Netherlands I excused myself, hating my dissembling heart.  

- Yes, he said.   The music began. Oh, but it’s a foxtrot! I said, suddenly unwilling under those circumstances. Hearing the music, his face fell, likewise. Another time, I said, leaving, saying to myself, See!  You should have just left it.  Things would have sorted themselves out.  But I had had so little dancing that week.  So little good dancing, which is the same thing, for me.

Later, I told a guy friend about resting bitch face:

Oh yeh, I've seen that… You're famous for it…

I was aghast.  He said he was joking but I knew that even if there was truth there he would not say. Besides, I had recognised truth enough already.

The erring eye

You may remember from the last piece:

...if the guy looks away I feel so for the woman and can't help thinking: it isn't the way things have to be. It is so avoidable.

And maybe you saw (here):

The distance from us to the men was at least standard compared to a traditional Buenos Aires milonga.  I sensed that, despite the good dancing, the confidence among guys here was not the same as the quiet, understated, undemonstrative assurance and experience of the older men in Buenos Aires.  They seem to know, easily who they want to dance with and are able to invite her clearly, over long distance, even when she is hesitant and inexperienced with that long-distance negotiation. 

It is true some of the guys in Buenos Aires were lovely to dance with and many had qualities I wish we saw more of here in Europe. Still, I would not want to mislead you. Who would have thought a look could be such a dangerous thing?

Those first ten days in Buenos Aires turned me upside down. I lost my compass in everything, my sense of identity in a way. While I enjoyed and relaxed in those days, they were also unnerving. One of the main ways I lost my bearings was in accepting guys in the milongas. I watched a lot before so doing but even so I did not accept invitations to dance the way I would in Europe.

That night I went to Obelisco, a well known, good traditional milonga popular among people my age and older. The venue is good and the music from Dany and Vivi is the best around. I was given a prime seat in the centre of the women's section on the long side directly in front of all the single guys. I never did work up enough courage to ask for a more discreet seat in Spanish. Still, bingo! Pretty soon I saw the guys I was looking for. They were all tall, all sitting together. We had seen each other off and on in other milongas.  Time went by and they did not invite me.  A milonga started, a fast dance with a syncopated rhythm. Men the world over, but especially in Buenos Aires, usually choose to dance tango with a new partner, not milonga.  While nothing is set in stone careful men tend to choose tracks they know are likely to work well with a new partner. 

I do not know exactly what happened. I just know what I thought happened and the effect, in the way that small things can be devastating, was just that.  Foolishly I looked towards one of the guys in that group with whom I still wanted to dance. I knew that girls never invite guys in Buenos Aires and do so at their peril in other places.  Did I do something?  Suggest something?  Did my eyebrow move a quarter inch?  Perhaps I was so used then to dancing the guy's role that what I thought my girl look was misconstrued as a guy-type invitation.  Perhaps they had just seen me looking and had had enough. Or maybe I saw something not even intended for me. But I thought I saw one of the guys raise his finger and wag it unmistakably. 

My first reaction was shock and to look away.  

When I did look up or elsewhere, compounding my problems, I accepted, randomly and without thinking, the next invitation that came my way.  Of course I knew not, ordinarily, to accept a guy you have not seen dance, and had not been doing so.  I knew especially not to do so in unfamiliar circumstances where you are not entirely your own steady self.  In these circumstances it's best not to feel giddy with embarrassment and two glasses of Argentinian 'champagne'.  What's needed is a sense of groundedness and ease and to stick to tried and tested behaviours that you know result in good dancing.

 As soon as we stood up I saw that the man was small. Very small, with terrible teeth. He looked up towards my nostrils after each dance, grinned and enquired, more as statement than question, if everything was fine. I nodded, mutely.  The tanda - four tracks - lasted.  

I see now the politer, more respectful thing might have been to make an excuse. That is what I might have done or certainly considered in the UK had that situation somehow come about.  But I did not know how things worked in Buenos Aires.  I did not know what the consequences would be of  walking out of a tanda mid-way through and based on no obvious insult.  In milonga culture doing so is a metaphorical slap in the face of the man.  It means I cannot bear this and I am so insulted by your behaviour or your dancing that you will never invite me again.  The milonga is a very visual place.  Everybody is watching.  Everybody sees.  What would the effect be of doing something so public, so humiliating to a man, especially in a macho culture?   Had he, really, done anything wrong?  He hadn't groped me, or done anything unseemly.  He had done nothing worse than men do every day - tried their luck with a girl, within acceptable parameters.  And I'd agreed.    

 When I sat down this double mortification spread over me and tears brimmed so helplessly that I could not look anywhere or move in case they spilled and everyone saw what indeed an absurd and imprudent giant baby I was. Being strung out from culture shock, fatigue, heat and home sickness was taking its toll.

As soon as I could bear to move and safely I went to the ladies.  Usually women walk through the men's section to get there, the men moving aside and taking the opportunity to make eye contact with a view to future dances. But I scrambled around the backs of chairs on the women's side, tripping over bags and shoes.  I knew I should leave but something stubborn dug in. I went back and sat for tanda after tanda - for two hours in fact - deliberately accepting no one. I looked anywhere but at the men in the cortina - the few minutes of non-tango music that signifies the end of one tanda and time to sit down and catch your breath before the next. It had never felt longer. I sat torturing myself, proving - why? - that I could sit there. Telling oneself - still less someone else -  to relax is never a successful strategy so to tell oneself to enjoy watching the dancers and listening to the music was perhaps optimistic but for a few moments at a time, it worked. When I felt I’d persecuted myself enough I left the salon and went, towards midnight to a pre-arranged meeting with a friend at another milonga, the gay one, which was much more relaxed and just what I needed right then. I should have gone earlier!

But something unplanned and unexpected did happen in those remaining two hours at Obelisco.  In my flaming embarrassment I decided to start re-listening to my instincts.  These, especially regarding who and when to accept, had been on hold as I had taken on information and advice from books, articles and other people on how dancing tango in Buenos Aires is different.  Quite simply, it takes time to adjust to how different things are in Buenos Aires.  Compounding matters, the milongas can be large venues and busy.  There are so very many unfamiliar men and for a while they can all look very similar - same clothes, same age, same height, same specs, same keyfob by their pockets.  And yet in a three week stay you do not have much time.  That is the problem but you just can't force these things.  This return to instinct was one of the best decisions I made there.  Nothing much changed, overtly.  I expect I still looked the same, danced about as much, acted more or less similarly but once I took that decision and moved on from that evening it was what made me relax into the trip and into the milongas. 

Even so, indignity piled upon indignity. In the foyer of Nuevo Chiqué the following week I was chatting to Bob and Viv of Tango Gales. An Austrian ex-pat or well-established visitor came out and we were introduced. With teutonic directness she said: 

Oh, you’re Felicity. I’ve heard about you. 

Oh? I tried to say politely, smiling nervously. I know these things show.  How could she have heard about me? The people out dancing tango across the city every night number at least in the hundreds. 

Ja! she said. I heard about a very tall foreigner who accepted a dance from a guy who had his face in her boobs and all you could hear was ze grunting.   

Gossip and Chinese whispers. I crumbled and confessed my mistake. 

But dear, she said kindly. You should have stopped dancing as soon as you felt uncomfortable. 

But he didn’t do anything, I said. 'Do'  is understood in Buenos Aires in the context of what men can do to women on the dance floor. He was just...small. And we were not...compatible.

It does not matter, she said. As soon as you felt uncomfortable!

Smiles

He looked more than once but did not invite. 

That was before I learnt that looking isn't always enough. But what a risk a smile is. What a vulnerable-making thing. The girl's smile is not an invitation but it is a clear signal. If it precedes invitation it is the initiation of things to come. 

Things you do mean things in the milonga, especially in the cortina.  If a girl simply looks at a guy at that time, she may be saying:  "If the music is right, I might dance" or even "I will dance regardless of what the music is".  

If I see a smile from a girl to me, who dances both roles, even if - especially if? - the smile is small, and slow I feel quite thrilled. 

 But some guys need more reassurance than a look and, despite decades of experience, through nerves, I don't tend to give the ones I like much encouragement.  

You have to be more pragmatic, the woman I didn't trust at all used to say at work, when I fought the corner for the customer. But if they trust us, they'll stay with us I would want to say. But the wham bam fast buck method seemed to be more the company's angle, or at least, her angle.

So if a guy looks, looks again and keeps looking off and on, in that milonga but doesn't invite and you're curious, what do you do? Smile, encouragingly? Yet who would want a dance that began with one partner patronising the other? 

But unquestionably,  the dance does start with a look, even if you don't dance right then. Even if you don't dance until days, weeks or months later. These things can't be forced with smiles you don't feel.  Either it happens somehow by itself, or it doesn't.  

There are smiles in the milonga all the time.  Some are flirtatious, a few are coy, some are so faint you wonder how it is she seems so desirable.  Some are matter-of-fact.  Some are efficient and businesslike.  One or two seem to contain so little of anticipated pleasure that you wonder why they dance at all.  These are the kind that start, mortifyingly for the poor guy. with a "Well, alright..." kind of look.  

I see many smiles from women that are like invitations.  On my third night in Buenos Aires, in Gricel there was a friendly blonde like that at my table.  It worked for her.  She danced all night.  Another woman seemed to disapprove finding it flashy, vulgar, inappropriate.  You have to smile at them the blonde said, kindly in castellano.  But I was tense as a coiled spring by then and could barely look to one side or the other.  She asked who I liked.  I told her.  She made to fix up the dance for me in warm Argentinian fashion but I stopped her, worried in too many respects.

Some women can pull off the 'come hither' look.  Many would consider it the way of the world.  I thought she was fun and it was plain she did consider it such.  But it is the way of the world for some.  Sometimes it can be rather too much all in the shop window for me.  And it can be catching.  I have seen whole milongas like this.  Exaggerated by a girl, it is like being stalked.  It's also troubling because if the guy looks away I feel so for the woman and can't help thinking:  it isn't the way things have to be.  It is so avoidable.

Women, especially older women initiating things very overtly without actually asking can, inside the milonga, lead either to them seeming scary or sad.  Then again it can lead to women getting the dance they want, on their own "Shall we?" terms and personally I don't like to dance with most guys who dance on those terms.  I like seeing women who are smarter and more subtle than that.

“I’ll dance with anyone”

I hear some women say this. I hear it quite often.

There are many women who just want to dance, they don't really care with whom. But for me the interest is when someone wants specifically to dance with me - not not with just anyone who will have him or her, not someone who will just move them about.

Girls, did you know guys can often feel when the woman doesn't care that much who she's dancing with, that she just wants to be up on the floor, moving? On the other hand, when the dancers actively choose each other for any of the many reasons individuals do choose each other, nothing could feel clearer. 

Stuttgart Milonga Weekend, personally: Saturday and Sunday

I had had a lovely morning and was a little reluctant to run the gauntlet of the milonga. I arrived at the start to find it very quiet and considered perhaps I ought to have stayed out in the city and the sun, but remembered when a milonga is quieter you can often have a better time.  Deciding to see about dancing with women I wore flats yet accepted, inexplicably, a couple of guys I had avoided the day before, mostly I guess because they invited very respectfully, yet still too near for the quiet conditions.  The downside of a quiet milonga you don't know is it can be harder to refuse  invitations you do not really want.  I accepted a couple more in conditions that were nigh on impossible to get out of but were my own fault. Then I accepted someone who looked good yet I suspected was too forceful which was true. 

The effect of dancing one does not like is tension and stress, visible both on and off the floor. I had been manhandled, the floor was becoming and my knee hurt. 

But my luck changed. I was on the stools watching the floor while there was no wall of women. I had not seen him dance but from the quiet, fun way he invited at a distance just knew he would dance well.  Humour is often a shortcut.  

Later, I sought a dance by mirada across the tabled area and got a nice, traditional Buenos Aires type dance with a guy older than me. He did a double take perhaps because I had not seemed to want to dance for so long. Look. If he keeps looking, smile. (Maybe) an invitation.  I think that's how it works.  

On Saturday night, fuelled by the type of music, the atmosphere felt busier and pumped. I had had a nice, relaxing evening in the park prior to arriving quite late perhaps 2330. The milonga had started at 2200. I soon felt uncomfortable and could not settle. I did not find partners nor expect to and quit after two hours. I saw others also leaving before me especially after 0030. I think I danced once through direct invitation I had found hard to get out of but again that was my own choice and the dance was fine.

On Sunday afternoon the weather was gorgeous again. I figured the way things had been I was probably going to have a better time out of the milonga than in. I stayed out in the good weather and did not go to the dance until the last 90 minutes, around 1730. I sat near the front of the little used seating with tables to watch the dancing with only the floor in front of me, inexplicably well out of reach of all most invitation. Under pressure the gaze can narrow.  I had seen the desperate covert and less covert gazes of women who are not dancing.  Unwilling to be anything like then, I found my head physically would not turn towards where the guys were. Don’t be perverse I scolded myself, moving to the quieter side of the bar where I fell into easy conversation with Kenneth.  I was surprised then to be invited by one of the good dancers and the only guy in fact with whom I'd chatted hitherto.  So those theories I mentioned I suppose were borne out - knowing people and becoming relaxed/distracted seemed to work.  

The dance was the swooping, elegant and athletic European style. Being my first dance since the previous afternoon I was not warmed up and felt as stiff and awkward as the Tin Man. That style tends to make fewer concessions to the conditions of the woman than others.  In similar circumstances I often have a sense that I must try to keep up.  But it was one of my best dances of the weekend.

So I had three good tandas over the four milongas at the Tango Loft milonga weekend which, proportioned against travel speaks for itself. The conditions regarding seating, lighting and invitation were not right for me personally and during the weekend I felt stuck between the guys who wanted to dance with me but with whom I did not want to dance and the guys I wanted to dance with who did not want to dance with me. Even so although there were plenty of good dancers I did not have much sense that I wanted to dance with many of them - or perhaps that is just what happens when you feel guys do not want to dance with you. Who after all would want to dance with someone when, apparently invisible to them, the feeling is clearly not mutual? 

I am glad I went to Stuttgart.  Tango Loft is an attractive venue, Kenneth is a warm host and there was plenty of good dancing and from the milongas the weekend offered much for reflection. As in Cambridge, in Nottingham and this weekend at Dumbarton Castle rather than at the new milonga in Glasgow with which I combined that trip, my best time was outside the milongas, exploring and being shown the city.  As so often in life friendship makes all the difference.