I started dancing tango on the heels of a rebound … of a rebound … of a … you get the idea. Now, you could argue that it was just the full schedule of running from a beginner’s class to a practica to a milonga all over the place that kept me from more failed dates. But I was already juggling plenty of other commitments, so I’d like to think that it was tango itself that kept me single for the ensuing months.
Isn’t that the joke that everyone has about tango? “Who needs a relationship when with tango I can be intimate with a dozen men in one evening and not have to worry about getting pregnant?!” It was pretty well true for me, for the first six months that I tried to conquer the beginner’s tango hurdle. I immersed myself in learning technique and learning to enjoy my partner’s embrace. Once I got over my nerves, I found myself in the arms of many leaders every Friday night – and happily went home by myself.
Tango became my lover, and it got me over my messy, rebounding phase. It nursed my dancing soul back to health. It was better than therapy.