Embarrassing Tango Moments

Who has not had this happen?

Michael was a hot, sensual Englishman and a fabulous tango dancer whom women cued up to dance with. I had watched him for months in the dance salons of Buenos Aires where the two of us were living, both passionate about this Argentine dance often called “a vertical position for horizontal desire.” He had eyes set deeply, like currants in a scone, but also thick chestnut hair and a seductive close embrace and torso sway. I loved to watch his bum as he danced.

In Argentina, there are strict “codigos,” or codes of behavior for social tango: The men sit in their sections across from the women and the former invites the latter to dance by making eye contact and giving a subtle nod of the head called a “cabaceo.” That’s just the way it is in this macho culture and one learns to work with it. This one evening at a popular hall called Club Gricel, there was Michael sitting across the great polished wood floor, but nodding his head my way! Por fin, at last. What luck. I knew this, too: The woman waits at the edge of her seat for the man to come, take her hand, and lead her onto the floor. But, Michael and I were both foreigners, were on a first-name basis, and, I had it from the horse’s mouth, his very own, that he liked to watch my bum. Heck, we were mutual bum-admirers, so I could flaunt the etiquette with him. Delighted, I stood and began to stride eagerly, proudly, in my five-inch tango heels toward him. Inches from me, he squinted, made a detour, and continued swiftly right past me to another woman who had been seated at the same table as I. I don’t know the Spanish equivalent of “egg on my face” (huevos en mi cara?) I didn’t even have the presence of mind to hide my chagrin as my arms flapped like broken wings and the men at the table nearest me smiled knowingly.

There is a happy ending: One of the men at the table was an Argentine named Pablo. He stood briskly, his eyes glowing life fireflies, my knight in shining armor (armor minus 1 “r” = amor). Pablo saw it all happen and ran to my aid, laughing and sweeping me up to dance, preserving my honor as if it were he all along I’d come to dance with. Pablo and I have remained friends —and I saw him just the other evening, still attentive and dancing like a prince. Oh, and yes, I never ever again flaunted custom—especially with an Englishman with deep set eyes.