My Glasses, My Heart, Part 3

Then I got contact lenses.

Very handy. I can spot a cabeceo, and I can walk myself off the floor. Men and women alike tell me I look prettier.

The leads no longer escort me to my table; there’s no need. They walk a bit in the general direction, say a nice thank-you, and wander off.

According to Kari, my tour guide to the dance scene, that’s because as soon as one tanda ends, everyone—leads and followers alike—start trolling for their next partner. They are afraid that, if they take time out for etiquette, someone will snatch the next partner they want or worse, all of the good partners will pair up, leaving only the dregs.

I am not fond of dancing back-to-back tandas. After a tanda, I want to bask. At the very least, I like to get one lead out of my system before another one takes his place. For more than a year this worked quite well; I often enjoyed the space of several tandas between dances. Since I started wearing contact lenses, however, I am often waylaid before I even return to my table.

This can be simply explained: Without an escort one is assumed to be trolling.

Also, to be honest: If a lead whom I like charts an intercepting course, I do not initiate evasive maneuvers.

Also: Some leads are gratified by my choice to wear contacts. They interpret it as a courtesy I extend to their temples or as acquiescence to their advice. They’re right on the first count, and perhaps on the second, though I hate to admit to acquiescence to anything. Nevertheless, to be honest: If it had not been so often suggested, would I have made the move?

Also: I have become a better dancer.

Never mind the causes, the effect is singular. When I wear my contact lenses, I rarely sit out a tanda.

Then I tore one contact lens.